


A Quiet Life No More

by Danowsawa



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-07 14:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danowsawa/pseuds/Danowsawa
Summary: Having worked his entire life for a home, a wife, and children, Darim is content living a life of solitude along the plains of Akkala. One stormy night, however, a traveler and his companion show up in need of a respite from their travels. When it comes across that these two are none other than the Princess of Hyrule and her bodyguard, it's clear that Darim's quiet life is over.





	1. Prologue: The Strangers

Three beastly knocks rang out from the door.

Darim's hand instinctively reached out from the table, as if in some vain attempt at quelling the sudden quake of nerves that were no doubt rumbling down the spines of his wife and two sons. His hand falling to clutch the end of the table, he spun around, eying the front door as the downpour gradually arose, sending the roof of his home rumbling violently with raindrops. He heard his youngest son quietly begin to whimper, a rattling of silverware denoting his wife's reaching over to comfort him.

"It's okay," Arie spoke, attempting to comfort her son as she held a hand atop his shoulder, "Probably just a traveler trying to get out of the rain. Right, Darim?"

Her husband failed to answer as he remained fixed on the door, knowing as well as she did that travelers were few and far between during the rainy season around here. Darim remained unanswering as he pushed himself to his feet, suddenly turning toward his teenage son, who'd followed him up to his feet as well, as if accepting this challenge alongside of his old man.

"Sit," Darim ordered, waving him off, "Listen to your mother. It's just a traveler."

His son, Erol, didn't nod or reply, though he lowered himself back into his chair, keeping a grip on both the table and arm of the chair in preparation for having to jump to his feet. Darim sighed at his son's insistence, though began his way out from the dining room and crossing into the small living area when another set of loud, boisterous knocks rang out once more, sounding more like a boorish animal trying to tear the door from the threshold than a man. Darim figured, hopefully, that it was merely a desperate traveler, not exactly prepared for any other occasion.

He reached out to grasp the door handle, his other hand slowly unlocking the door before his body slid backward, allowing the heavy door to swing open toward him, when suddenly, the door burst along its track, sending Darim backward and falling onto the floor as his balance betrayed him. His eyes remained fixed in front of him, noticing the body of a man having collapsed into the door and fallen to the wooden slabs of the floor, unable to remain on his feet.

Arie and Erol immediately jumped to their feet, though Erol was first to arrive at his father's side, crouching down to help him up, though Darim merely remained there, lifting his head to keep watch on the lifeless body that had forced the door open so powerfully. Beneath this traveler's dark cloak was the unmistakable sheath of a sword, sliding just barely out from the thick material of the cloak itself.

The three remained silent, until Erol took a step toward the traveler, which seemed to bring Darim back from his reverie, his deeply mighty voice barking out, "Erol! Back!"

"Father! He needs help!"

Darim grumbled as he worked his way up to his feet, feeling his forty years in every joint of his body, "That's not for you to decide. Now back!"

Erol remained defiant as he stood there, his head turned over his shoulder toward his father, though he eventually took a step back, seeing that his father was taking the task of examining this newcomer, whose cloaked hood hid any discernable features from the family. Darim muttered to himself unamusedly as he bent down reaching down to pull the sheath out from beneath the cloak in an attempt to disarm the traveler. As he grasped the leathery blue piece of equipment, he eyed the unmistakably golden plating that rode up either side of it, a peculiar embellishment for a mere traveler, for sure.

Suddenly, the traveler's hands jerked up, grabbing the handle of his sword while the other clutched the sheath just above Darim's hand, Arie sending a loud gasp into the air as she jumped in shock, grasping Erol's shoulders and yanking him away. Darim was quick enough, dropping his knee into the man's back to keep him pinned, grasping his hand at the handle as well just as the gleam of silver peeked out from its gold and blue home.

Calmly, Darim uttered down to the man, "This is my home. You don't bring weapons into my home."

The man's voice shakily replied, and although it came across rather confident, his weakened state betrayed it with a shaking breath, "Nobody touches my sword…"

"You're in no state to judge that," Darim reminded the man, easily, "Now there's no other home down either road from here until Kaepora Pass or that nut up the road, so if you seek refuge, you'd better change that attitude."

The man weakly pulled his hand away from his sword, his limb sliding down his body until it hit the floor with a lazy *thump*. Darim took this time to reach over with his newly-freed hand and unbuckle the sheath from the traveler, pulling it out from beneath his cloak, his eyes catching the unmistakable emblem of the Triforce that showed in magnificent gold halfway up the leather. He turned up to his wife, who wore quite a surprised look on her face, denoting that she'd noticed it to.

"Erol," Darim instructed, loudly, his son attentively jumping to his father's side, "Put this in the cupboard."

His son hurriedly obeyed, grabbing the sword and turning away, rushing back toward the kitchen in an attempt at returning before much else were to happen. Darim, now content, rose up slowly to his feet, pulling the stranger up along with him as a mighty fist clenched the man's collar. Before the traveler could collapse again, Darim slid an arm around his back, pulling him up as he led him to a nearby couch, sighing as if disinterested in helping anybody other than his family.

"Help," the man whispered, deathly, as if his body was suddenly devoid of any other energy now that he was struggling to stand, "Outside."

Darim, unable to heed his words, threw a stare toward Arie, who nodded in reply, making her way to the front door, a sharp gasp escaping her once again as her hand jumped up to cover her mouth, "By the gods! There's a woman out here as well!"

Erol rounded the corner to return, ignoring his younger brother's wide-eyed glare from the table, and was immediately greeted by his father's roar, "Help your mother, now!"

The son leapt toward the door, his mother already outside and trying to pick up the body that had been carefully sat along the fence of the stables, which was the only place outside that had coverage from the falling rain. She had her halfway up when Erol arrived, bending low and lifting the woman up as his mother held up her other side, the two slowly working her into the home.

Darim had just lifted himself back up, having laid the man down on the couch, the traveler's scraggily, golden hair now showing as his eyes strained weakly toward the door, as if clawing at his senses, fighting back his exhaustion until knowing his companion was safely inside. Sure enough, as Arie and Erol stepped into the home, the man's eyelids gradually lowered, no choice but to be content with the help of total strangers.


	2. "Erol & Cephi"

_**Some days ago...** _

Erol leaned against the lengthy wooden fence that ran along the craggy expanse of cliffs that overlooked the endless ocean before him, his arms wrapped along the topmost rung as his eyes narrowed, the cool breeze rolling in stinging at his eyes. He would often come here to this place, especially now at the age of fifteen, a sense of having his own place in the world having begun to sprout within him since a few years ago. He would prop his foot up along the fence, rest his chin on his arm, and just watch the rolling waves, imagining himself on some adventure that was constantly out of reach.

His brown hair had grown to his shoulders, and while he thought it looked cool, he was now, once again, introduced to the price of that coolness, his hand rising to brush the tufts out from his face, a groan escaping him due to the slightest effort. He slowly spun around, his back sliding along the fence post until he met the ground, sitting there as he pulled a handful of wood out from one pocket and a small knife from the other, slowly beginning to whittle the piece down as his eyes jumped up, noticing his scampering brother approaching him, the young child stopping at every tree like each one had a story to tell him.

"Mommy says it's time for lunch!" his brother, Rurram, chided, still lost in the near-endless lines of blooming flowers that had come to sprout during so much rain the last few weeks.

Erol kept his face down, "I'll eat later."

Rurram mumbled to himself in discomfort, crossing his arms simply because that's what his father did when he was unamused, "You know what happened last time…"

"Yeah, and what of it?" Erol complained, not stopping his whittling, "I'm fifteen; it's the least they can do to allow me the freedom to choose when I eat. I'm sure they delegate that because, were I to quit, that's one less thing they can hold over me."

Stopping with a pronounced frown, Rurram shrugged with his arms still crossed, "Well I'm eight and a half and I'm not even allowed into the stables. At least you get to pet the horses whenever you want."

"They aren't letting me into the stables to have fun, you know," Erol muttered, dropping his hands into his lap and staring up at his brother, "I work. Work. Ya know that? And you know what else, even that wouldn't have happened if father hadn't screwed up his knee last winter and I was the only one able to get into the stables in the snow."

He shook his head, cursing under his breath with a word that Rurram hadn't heard before and wouldn't have been able to repeat anyway, the teenager's voice wavering as he began again to cut into his slab of wood.

"I just wish I could leave."

Rurram wore a look of shock, "Y-You don't mean that!"

Rolling his eyes, Erol confirmed, "'course I do. First thing I'd do it run up the road, sneak up to Cephia's window 'n surprise her; probably snatch some nightshades to bring her, tell her the glow makes her look out-of-this-world gorgeous. We could both run ever, never see these boring-ass hills ever again."

He had paused his work as his head turned skyward, his eyes staring into the cloudy blue with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, "I don't know, we could even get married one of these days. Right there in the Temple of Time. Tell her about how timeless our love would be…"

Gradually his face began to sag, and he quickly yanked his head away from the sky and aimed it at his brother, having forgotten he was even there as he lost himself in his dreams, "B-But, you know, that's crazy stuff. Nothing Father or Mother would have any interest in."

Erol had learned well. Had he directed his kid brother to not tell the two of them, it would have been the first thing he'd do. Instead, he would merely point out how uninterested a topic would be, which Rurram figured wouldn't be worth nearly as much as some juicy nugget his brother might offer him. As usual, Rurram's arms fell to his side as his head fall backwards.

"Oh, come on," he groaned, turning away in disgust, "Don't say I didn't warn you. And stop saying such gross things about girls; who knows what all cooties you'll get."

Dramatically enough, Rurram pulled his arms in front of him and shook of the residual effects of whatever power he allowed the thought to have over him before disappearing into the small collection of trees that made this location an even better spot for Erol to hang out- he couldn't be seen from the house. He sighed to himself in a longing fashion, finishing up a trench in the wood that finished up a small heart that sat above an 'i', the wooden piece showing only 'Cephi' so far. He shoved it back into his pocket, trying to figure out how to etch an 'a' into the wooden slab with only a straight-edged knife as he stood up, stealing another glance out toward the ocean.

"One day…" he muttered to himself before meandering back toward the house.

Passing their stables on his way home, Erol noticed his father struggling to shove a large bale of hay into a small shack they'd constructed for storing the things, which had become imperative with the onset of the spring rains. He frowned, already running through the conversation in his head, knowing what his father's reply would be, though he couldn't help but shake his head as he turned in stride, watching his father nearly hunched over against the bale, his feet sliding backward as he groaned, mightily, unable to even budge the cylinder of hay.

"Can I help?" Erol asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

His father slowly halted his struggling, pulling himself up the bale as though his back was unable to do so, "No. Go inside; your mother was wanting you."

Normally, Erol would have simply given his father his due, though even he couldn't deny the toll that had been taken on his father's body since a few months ago at the onset of winter. His lips twisted in disdain, torn between leaving his father to suffer beneath the weight of the man's own pride or the insufferable need to prove his own self as a young man who was more than capable to make it on his own.

Rolling his eyes, Erol walked up toward the bale, bracing himself against the side, earning a particularly serious stare from his father, who quickly reprimanded him, "Erol! I told you to-"

"Father!" Erol shouted, trying to hide any pleading tone, "Just help me push! I'm not gonna have to tell mother that you're out here, dead!"

His father merely replied with a sort of glare that forced Erol to understand that he was mulling over punishments for this insolence, though, surprisingly enough, the older man braced himself against the bale, lowering his center of gravity as the two suddenly let loose with a vigorous shove, sending the bale slowly up the ramp made of two slats of wood until it finally settled inside a small recess at the foot of the shed, where it would remain until it was needed.

"Goddamn two-bit workmanship," Darim complained, weakly standing up while wiping his dampened brow, "Go on inside; I'll lock this thing up."

Erol shrugged, having grown accustomed to life without appreciation from his old man, though as he turned toward the house, he caught the faintest glimpse of a wagon rolling toward them before the background of mighty peaks that made up Polymus Mountain. He stepped into the dirt road to try and get a better vantage point, and sure enough, he could tell by the blue canvas of the wagon who it was.

"Father, Niras is coming down from the Pass."

A heated grunt met him as Darim hung his head in exhaustion, "Is that today? Well, I'll take a few minutes and then start unpacking the radishes. Get on home, ya hear?"

Erol turned down the hill with more of a pep to his step. Niras also meant that there was a good chance Cephia, his daughter, would also be along for the trip. The two of them lived far to the southwest, just north of the Inogo Bridge, clear on the other side of Zorana. Niras had always enjoyed breeding and raising race horses, and found that the rocky terrain of Trilby Valley offered a spectacular natural training course for these horses. Through mere happenstance, a passerby mentioned how the radishes in Akkala were particularly hearty, and excellent for the particular breed of Hylian horses Niras had been training, so sure enough, he made the day-long trek to Akkala, only to find a farmer in Darim, who agreed to a trading agreement- Akkala radishes for coin, and first dibs on ownership of any horses Niras was planning to retire.

Erol could only tell of two loves in his father's life. He never had much reason to expect or know of any love from his father toward either of his two sons, but he could tell that Darim very much loved his mother. Beyond that, his father adored horses, which the spacious plains of Akkala offered him in droves. Particularly in his aging life, Darim must have felt a kinship with the retired horses, whose lives had also been worked and left to live out their lives with all the scrapes and bruises tagging along from previous years.

Quickly scurrying down the hill toward his home along the banks of Bloodleaf Lake, Erol jumped inside and bolted for the table, much to his younger brother's shock.

"Hi! Bye!" he shouted, grabbing two of the leaf-wrapped blocks of spiced bread, though slid to a stop as his mother's voice rang out from behind him.

"Erol!" she shouted, "Get over here and eat!"

He started running in place as he spun around, "But Niras is on his way! Father said I could help load up everything!"

His mother gave him a skeptical look before finally answering, "Fine. but you're eating first."

Erol's head sank, knowing he'd be unable to greet Cephia now. He huffed toward the table, making a particularly teenage grunt of rebellion as he yanked the chair out and sat down, lowering his head to keep from noticing Rurram's undoubtedly teasing glances. He unwrapped the bread as his mother continued from back in the kitchen.

"Is Cephia with him?"

"Maybe. There weren't any horses."

His mother paused for a moment, "Well, I'll make two take-along meals regardless. You can give one to your father if she's absent. Spiced bread and some- Rurram!"

Erol peered up toward his brother, who was in the middle of taking a bite out of his bread's leaf, earning the ire of his mother as he explained, "It smelled good! It should taste good, right?"

"What are you, a goat?" their mother chided, reaching over to snatch away the foliage, "Now you behave. You'll be older like your brother soon enough, you know."

Rurram frowned, "I don't wanna work though!"

Their mother groaned as she returned to the kitchen, leaving Erol to stare angrily at his brother, already working out in his head what all was currently going through his child mind, "I don't wanna get married either!"

A swift kick beneath the table made him cry out, "Ow! Erol kicked me!"

"Erol!" she shouted with disciplinary gusto, "And what do you mean mar-"

"He started it," Erol complained, earning the retort he'd been hoping for from his kid brother.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

Their mother simply gave up, shaking her head as she retreated to the solitude of her kitchen, leaving the two boys to quiet down on their own. Erol gave Rurram a heated stare as he bent low to hurriedly consume his bread, not much pleased with his brother's unknowing antics.

By the time Erol returned from lunch, with a satchel of food in tow, his father and Niras had already conducted the majority of their business and had taken to speaking cordially by the stable, leaving Cephia alone to wander along the dirt road, arms outstretched in some aimless attempt at balancing herself as she attempted to walk in a perfect line. Erol paused, nearly unable to take his eyes off of her once he made it up the hill, her lengthy hair flying in the breeze, nearly as wild in shape as the curves of her body.

She was sixteen, just a few months older than Erol, and in the two's meeting over the last few years, he'd grown immensely infatuated with her. She wasn't simply quiet, she was more 'pensive'- she didn't talk simply not to talk, but because she was living within her head, thinking of life beyond this stretch of the world, imagining adventures and legends. Erol loved that about her, if only because she shared the same dream he did of living far away from here. She was also educated, which was a trait that had, more or less, been denied Erol due to his father's constant work and his mother's inabilities.

He slowly approached her, carefully pulling the satchel from over his head and grabbing a box of food before leaving the rest on a nearby barrel for Niras to, presumably, find on his own. Erol only had eyes for this beauty now, and any other human might as well have been nonexistent.

"Hey," he spoke as he met Cephia along the road, her head turning up to him with a surprised look before softening into a serene smile.

"Hi Erol," she replied, waving him over with her still-outstretched arm, "I'm almost there; would you help me?"

It was only then that he realized that she was walking atop a wooden plank that had fallen to the ground, simply amusing herself by trying to walk along it. Erol suddenly felt a sweat appear at his neck as he reached out to take her hand, its plump, soft skin almost foreign considering how brash his family was. She smiled as she finished her game, stepping toward the ground as Erol relinquished his grasp, almost thankfully, the nerves working their way to his stomach.

"Thank you, kind sir," she mused, playfully, "I might have met my demise at the bottom of the sea had it not been for you."

Erol recognized this from one of her storybooks- she was pretending to be on some Gerudo ship somewhere, having been sent to 'walk the plank', as it were. He could only return a goofy smile as he tried to retort with some equally playful line.

"Eh, anything to save a damsel," he attempted, though this obviously failed to meet Cephia's expectations.

Still, she smiled, "Almost. Dad is just talking to Mr. Darim now; everything's been traded. Apparently, there've been bandits wandering around our lands, so he's a bit apprehensive about returning so late in the day."

Erol frowned, "You still have that watchman coming by, right?"

"Every now and then, but dad's still concerned, "Cephia concluded, now with saddened lips that Erol was sure he'd be willing to catch a plains fox to reverse.

Possibly hoping to make up for his previous faux pas, he simply brought up his arms into something of a fighting stance, "Well, if you need a guardian, you know who to call."

Cephia only giggled, which forced a demystified gloom to come across Erol, having gotten the reception he'd hoped. Instead, she began to twirl around as she backed away, losing herself in the breeze that swirled before her.

"I wish I could stay up here. I love the wind coming off the ocean," she happily explained, "When it catches you just right, you can even smell the sea salt flowing around."

This gave Erol an idea, one dubious enough that he had to peer toward the two men to make sure they weren't looking. He then made his way toward Cephia, who stopped once he grabbed her hand, a sudden wave of trembles running through his body again as he readied himself to speak up without, by the goddess, allowing a crack in his voice.

"C'mon, I wanna show you something," he managed, taking her along up the slope toward the cliffside.

"Wow," Cephia mused aloud, standing atop the bottom rung of the fence as she leaned out closer toward the ocean.

Erol simply leaned over as he'd done earlier, simply grinning at himself proudly, knowing he'd done well in impressing this girl. His eyes scanned the horizon, finding it interesting how different this same activity felt when in the company of somebody else, much less somebody he was rather smitten with. He noticed her head suddenly whip down the coastline, a breathless, awed gasp escaping her.

"Ooooh… What's that?"

Erol turned to see the swirling length of sand that coiled into a center just off the coast. He had always wondered what it was, or better yet, what was down there, but heading down a cliff wasn't the sort of thing either his parents would have ever allowed.

"I don't know. It's cool looking, though," he nodded in reply to her wonderment.

"Maybe it's a fairy fountain, like in the stories!" Cephia imagined aloud, smiling from ear to ear, "You know of them, right?!"

This was one of those occasions where Erol's heart would sink within the presence of this one. His parents so concerned with subsistence, or in their family's case, mere survival, not only had Erol's mind been undernourished, so too had his imagination. He hadn't had bedtime stories of old, or anything of the awe Cephia clearly had for the ancient legends. This only saddened him, reminding him of just how lowly he was in the face of this so majestic of a being.

To her credit, Cephia had learned of this on her own, and would often change the subject when unknowingly delving into a part of Erol's life he wasn't comfortable reaching out to, "I mean, it could be anything down there. I bet somebody could even build a house down there and live; that'd be so cool!"

Erol shrugged, "I mean, I guess, but you'd have a difficult time growing anything on sand. The house would be an issue too; our shed even, the ground beneath it is so soft that we had to prop it up on legs to keep it from sinking enough inches into the ground."

He noticed Cephia staring at him when a blush washed over his face, "Y-You know…"

"I don't, though," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him, "I don't know anything about that kind of stuff. I bet your pretty dependable, huh, Erol?"

Had he not been shaken to the core already by the rush of blood to his face, Erol might have felt more accomplished by her compliment than he did now. Instead, he lowered his head in embarrassment, trying to hide, what surely was, his vulnerable side.

"..I guess so."

Cephia returned to looking out amongst the churning waves, leaving Erol a chance to steal a glance up toward her. Her profile, he thought, was so perfect, especially with her golden hair flowing in the breeze as if she was descending from some godly realm. Her taut arms, sure to have been covered by that same, smooth skin disappeared into her bright green dress, black tendrils of vines running all around, sprouting silhouetted leaves and flowers all along the fabric, nearly hypnotizing Erol until he noticed her chest, which he'd noticed for years now had risen to some prominence he was sure was too good for any mere mortal, much less himself.

His final thought embarrassing him once again, he sunk his head down once again, biting his lip as he mulled over the thoughts in his head, feeling the slab of wood that he'd nearly finished carving up. He reached down and held his thumb on the edge of his pocket, slowly allowing it to slither in further as he tried his hardest to summon his courage. He wanted this girl, so much, to be his. but even more than that, he wanted her to have him.

"Uh…" he murmured, lowly, as he slid the wood out from his pocket, knowing already that its facing was already turned away from her, "There's, uh- There's something else…I wanted to show you."

Cephia turned toward him with curious eyes, stepping down off the fence as she turned toward him, noticing the object in his hand, "Hm? What's up?"

Erol felt every muscle in his arm seize up as his body fought back against reveling his heart to this girl, his nerves running down his throat, in the pit of his stomach, nearly forcing him to only keel over as his heart raced. Suddenly, unable to speak, he simply threw his hand out with the whittled piece of wood in his hand. His head still hung low, which he knew to be the exact opposite of the 'confident man' girls pined for, he couldn't help but remain that way as the echoing sounds of nature around him seemed to mute themselves. It was only him, and her.

"Oh," Cephia spoke up, more weakly than anything.

She slowly grasped the edge of the jagged piece of wood, which seemed to have come from the trunk of a small tree. A heart had been meticulously carved around near the edge, and within the light brown of the whittled bits sat the words 'Erol & Cephi', the ampersand having taken a particularly mastadonic amount of time, even she could tell.

Erol's knees shook as nausea consumed his insides, desperate for her to accept his gift so that he could free himself from this hell-storm of nerves. She hadn't spoken yet, probably so enamored by his work. She couldn't take her eyes off of it long enough to reply, he though, surely!

"It's not finished, b-but…" Erol explained, his head jumping up to see her, though his face went white once he saw her saddened face, as if her own heart was tearing at the prospect of having to do what she had to.

"I, uh…" she spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, her voice shallow, "I don't think you need to do that…"

Other than his sight, the rest of Erol's senses shut off. The world around him went mute, he felt nothing, and even his sight began to waver, weakly, and he prayed that it wasn't due to any tears.

"Sorry," Cephia muttered under her breath, dropping her arm to her side as her opposite hand reached across her to rub her forearm, nervously, not having to have done this herself before, "There's a boy. from Mercay Town. Really kind, and… Sorry."

Her lips coiled with uncertainty, still holding the wooden slab in her hand as Erol's head began to sink, though his body might as well have been sinking right there into the ground below him. She bent down, placing the slab on the ground before stepping away, apologizing once again, and walking off, still clutching her arm, her own body having faced some sort of nausea, knowing how much she'd affected him.

Erol couldn't move. He simply stared at the ground, his eyes running up the grass toward the wood that Cephia had placed just out of his sight a moment ago. Months, he thought, had been wasted.


	3. A Soldier's Gamble

Darim's eyes remained fixed on the still body that took up the whole of his couch, sitting across the room himself in his usual chair, hunched over his knees as time began to wear on him. It had been an hour or so since the two travelers had arrived, and Arie had already tucked the both of them in the thickest blankets they had to warm them up, a need that had sent Rurram and Erol both scurrying throughout the house in a mad attempt at finding what their mother had demanded.

Now, Darim sat, still-faced, ready for any hint of motion from the weary traveler, his eyes barely flashing even as Erol stepped out from the bedroom, "Mother said she's ill with something. She even looked at her shoes; said she'd nearly worn the sole straight out of them."

Darim nodded, "This one's not much better. Looks like he's been walking near non-stop from clear across the whole of Hyrule."

Erol looked at the sleeping man, trying to place him in his mind. He was obviously Hylian, though from his dress, he couldn't tell where he might have hailed from. In fact, given his dark cloak, the strangers' brightly dyed blue shirt seemed incredibly out of place, especially in such dreary conditions. He took a step closer to further examine him, but his father quickly snapped at him.

"Stop," Darim spoke up, his voice taking on an air of authority, devoid of any sort of worry, "You're not to go near him."

"What if he needs help?"

"All he needs now is sleep," Darim noted, "And an eye on him to make sure this isn't a trick."

Erol sighed, the feeling if helplessness coursing through him as he turned back around, his task of reporting to his father having been completed. He walked back toward the small alcove that led to the bedroom, finding Rurram standing outside the closed door, impatiently pulling out stray threads from his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Erol questioned, hoping his kid brother would catch what he was referring to.

Luckily enough, Rurram answered, still preoccupied with one particularly lengthy thread, "Mom said she needed to get her wet clothes off, so she sent me out here. She said she might even need to work up some herbs or something; she's drawing a fever."

"No surprise," Erol muttered, turning his head as a hand reached up to scratch at his scalp, frowning, "I can't remember the last time we took boarded anybody. Not that this exactly counts, but still."

"I thought they used to do it all the time," Rurram pined, confusion boiling over his seven-year-old mind.

Erol sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets, "They used to, but stuff changes, you know. Apparently it became less safe to allow in visitors, what with the rise in bandits. That caused the Hylian army to send more patrols, you know, those 'shiny men' with the lanterns and swords?"

Rurram nodded attentively, "But these two aren't bandits, right?"

"I don't think so," Erol shrugged, "Though father still probably hated to allow them in. Those same patrolmen figured they were coming so far out here, away from home, that they had the right to board themselves in the homesteads out here, even asking for money as 'security taxes'. The one guy who pulled that with us, father punched him in the face and sent him away."

He kicked the floor, "That secret crawlspace? It's only there because they started searching our house, trying to pin anything on father for hitting their patrolman. He didn't want them taking anything, so hed hide it down there."

Rurram frowned, trying to work a sentence from his mouth, "I thought he was just paroid."

"Paranoid," Erol corrected, "There's probably a bit of that, too. That's why he's in there-"

The door creaked open, their mother's head sticking out as she took labored breaths, her head turning in a rush as she looked for her older son, "Erol, thank the goddess. Go fetch some water from the lake, would you? Her fever is rising as we speak."

He quickly nodded, turning to rush through the kitchen for a bowl, Arie too preoccupied to shut the door back as she rushed back into the bedroom, leaving enough space through the door and threshold that Rurram could just barely lean to the side and peek in. His mother had fallen to her knees by the bedside, hastily retrieving a mortar and pestle as she began grinding up whatever contents it had held. Soon enough, she swiped two fingers into the stone bowl, reaching up and carefully sliding the green paste along the young woman's forehead, Rurram now having a good look at her as his eyes had followed his mother's hand.

Despite her closed eyes, the blonde-haired girl held her mouth agape, taking in shallow breaths as her body arose and fell, nearly violently, trying to purge itself of whatever illness had overtaken her. Rurram's brow furrowed worriedly at the sight, though he quickly reverted to his previous stance as his mother stood back up, returning to the door.

"Darim!" she shouted, preemptively attempting to gain her husband's attention before making it to the living room, "She might make it through this, but I don't know if she'll recover without better medicine. Someone needs to head down to-"

"Nobody's leaving," Darim instructed, his head shaking in disagreement, "Not in this storm. I won't let anybody be so stupid as to get caught in that downpour. These two were the fools; let them suffer if it's what they chose."

Arie bit her bottom lip, sighing as her head turned away, trying to hide her dissatisfaction from her husband. Unable to control her husband's opinion, she rolled her eyes, returning to what she did, indeed, have control of, that of the young woman's health, returning to the bedroom as she pointed toward Rurram.

"Go by the door and let your brother i-"

"Here!" Erol interrupted, appearing at his mother's shock, though she quickly reached out to grasp either side of the bowl.

In too much haste for a thanks, she spun toward the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind her, leaving her alone with the halting breaths coming from the bed before her. She hurried over, grasping for a rag she'd already procured when she'd first brought her in here, dipping and wringing it before dabbing it across the girl's forehead, trying what she could to fend off this fever.

Her eyes scanned the young woman's face, running down from her long hair which invoked the very golden color of healthy wheat fields, a sort of golden hue that Arie couldn't remember having ever seen before. Her eyes narrowed curiously, trying to decipher this woman's identity as she continued running her damp rag across her face, the girl's breaths growing more heated.

A pang of guilt crossed Arie as she frowned, turning her head down her body which lay beneath this checkered blanket, a quiet sigh escaping her as she prayed, "Goddess, help me."

As if her voice would soothe her nervousness, she began to narrate aloud as she grasped the top edge of the blanket slowly pulling it down this stranger's body, "Sorry, but I you need to cool down, okay? I'm just going to run a cold towel over you, alright? Nothing weird."

Perhaps in another life, Arie would have shared in the familiar air that women often share with one another's bodies, though having spent too many years amongst only men, she'd lost that sense of relating to the female body in general, and now felt rather out of place as this young woman's body came into view, despite her desperate attempt at helping her cool down.

"Okay, first your arm…" she spoke, feeling her nerves slightly quelled after all.

Calling upon some near-bygone knowledge of where the body's hottest skin lie, Arie took ahold of the woman's hand, lifting it upward as she began dabbing down her arm with the rag in her opposite hand, her eyes peering elsewhere as she did so, not exactly comfortable with such an action. Still, feeling the rag needing to be rejuvenated with freshly cold water, she turned back to aim her hand into the bowl, her eyes just flashing by the woman's hand, suddenly halting as she took a double-take, glancing at the lithe fingers of this stranger, following them down her niveous skin to the knuckle side of the extravagant appendage, Arie's eyes slowly growing in realization as to what was appearing there.

Undoubtedly, there rested the slightest discoloration of skin, nearly yanking a gasp from Arie's suddenly-wide mouth, her body slowly rising in shock as she pulled away, turning toward the bedroom door with a paled look of worry on her face.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

The door shut in their faces, Erol and Rurram looked at one another, both of them able to comprehend the maelstrom that had befallen their home. While Rurram was only able to comprehend that two strange humans had ended up here and caused a fuss, Erol was busy in his mind, trying to figure out what might have happened. It wouldn't have been the first time a roaming man or woman would notice their stable up by the road and turn in and down the hill to visit them, mostly with questions about the horses. Perhaps the two of them had simply turned in at the first sign of civilized life? but this torrential downpour had begun a day or two ago- there was no way they would have gotten too far in their travels without intending to get caught in the mess.

He shut his eyes in pensive thought, hoping that he wasn't becoming as frightened of the outside world as his father was, when suddenly, a massive, heavy thud rolled through the house toward the two boys, the both of them turning to one another with a look of surprise. They immediately took off around the corner, Erol sliding to a stop as he grappled onto his little brother's shoulders, yanking him back as he noticed the strange man on the floor, face down, putting whatever effort he could muster into his arms as he tried to push himself up to his feet.

Darim remained seated, only watching the man with a blank expression, as if unimpressed by his progress thus far, given his condition. He groaned through gritted teeth as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, sliding a knee up toward his stomach in an effort to push himself up to his feet.

"What's the hurry?" Darim wondered aloud, devoid of any teasing- he was legitimately interested in what was so important that this man was content with killing himself over.

The traveler managed to prop himself atop his knee, giving him a moment's respite as he took a collection of gargantuan breaths, "I need one of your horses."

Darim scoffed, leaning back in his chair with authoritative quickness, "Pshaw. I take you two in and you're the one making demands? Boy, if you hadn't a woman in your care, I wouldn't have the mind to let you sleep in the stable, much less have you take a horse from there. I saw your belt strap, Hylian; you've got quite the nerve demanding from an Akkala man after all your countrymen have done out here to these peace-loving people."

"That woman in there," the stranger weakly murmured, trying his best to summon any sort of equally-authoritative tone, "She the last person whose death you want on your hands."

For the first time in his life, Erol was sure he'd caught his father with a grin, Darim suddenly amused by this soldier's further insistence to make demands of him, "MY hands?! Last I recall, boy, she's at the mercy of your protection, and you lead her through this storm."

The Hylian groaned through shaky breaths as he slowly attempted to push himself up, clutching at the end of the couch as the muscles in his arms flexed, desperately trying to pull himself as he continued to speak, waveringly, "My pockets are about as deep as your stubbornness, old man. I'll buy a horse."

At that, Darim's annoyance began to recede, his eyes narrowing as he became intrigued at the prospect. The soldier had worked his way up to the point where he could swing his backside toward the couch, falling back into its cushions with a sigh of relief, his head falling against the back of its frame as he sat there, exhausted, feeling as though his legs were on fire, its flames marching in step with the nausea coiling around his gut.

"I need to get back…to Kakariko. For medicine," he explained, though his voice had grown more pleading, unintentionally, as he'd further weakened.

Darim smirked once again, amused, "All the way to Kakariko? Do you intend to always have others do your work for you? Why not make your own medicine?"

The Hylian's eyes squinted open, staring up toward the wooden ceiling of the house, feeling his stomach falling away from him as nerve quaked through him, knowing he hadn't an answer for the man.

"Some bodyguard you are," Darim concluded, almost as if offended by any fellow man's ineptitude.

From back in the hallway, the two boys jumped as the bedroom door slammed open into the wall, their mother stomping out and into the living room as she threw a finger back from where she'd come, staring at her husband with horrified eyes, "Th-That's the- The Princess of Hyrule in there!"

Darim's ear perked at his wife's words, noticing the soldier's eyes shut tightly as if he were pained by the fact of his companion's identity had been known. The old man didn't say a word, almost mulling this new information around in his mind, trying to figure out what to do from here. Soon enough, he figured, now, with the Princess of Hyrule in his home, was not the time to be belligerent.

"Those are retired race horses," Darim explained, quietly, "They walk and graze all day, every day. I don't even know if any of 'em would even get you to Kakariko."

The soldier's head pulled up, his eyes meeting Darim's as he answered, "Then I'll crawl the rest of the way if I have to. but she needs medicine."

"She does," Arie agreed, nervously, "I'm trying to keep her cooled down, but-"

"You'll entrust her to us?" Darim interrupted, speaking to the bodyguard, "We have no protectors among us. I'm far too worn to do much of anything."

The soldier frowned, "If I take her with me, she will die, surely. Here, there's a chance."

"And if trouble comes looking for her?"

The mystery man didn't reply, his head falling forward as regret swirled around his heart. He knew, well enough, how ill-equipped he had been for this job. He hadn't ever known life outside of the grimy streets of Hyrule Town as a child, or the military barracks as a teenager until the Princess had tasked him with this mission. He knew how to hold and swing a sword, but he hadn't an idea how to grind up herbs for medicine, or how to purify standing water enough for human consumption.

And, in this case, he hadn't a clue how to gamble.

Darim shrugged, "I'll sacrifice my family for no man or woman. If anybody of ill-intent comes hunting her down, I don't much care if we're boarding the goddamned Oracle of Ages; I'll let her go before my wife and children. End of story."

The stranger weighed his options, however few of them he had by this point, before sighing, "Understood."

Groaning, Darim worked his way up to his feet, shaking his head in disbelief, "Erol."

His oldest son rushed up to him for further instruction, Darim clutching Erol's shoulder for support as his knee radiated pain, "Go get one of the horses out and saddled. Barus, maybe; he's always had more of a kick to his step."

"Yes sir," Erol nodded attentively as his father took hold of the chair, allowing him to scurry off toward the door, clutching at a hanging coat nearby.

He turned toward the stranger as he worked up his zipper, watching his face. His eyes looked to weary, so tired, yet his face wore a determined expression as he began anew, trying to work his way up to his feet, his eyes flashing toward Erol's for a split second, causing the teen to nearly recoil. He saw in those eyes a quality that he desperately sought, nearly envied- that resolve to endlessly press on toward the unknown.

He grasped his hood and threw it over his head before yanking open the door and rushing out into the darkness, leaving Darim to cross his arms as the soldier achingly pushed himself upward. Rurram took a step toward the man in some inadvertent attempt at aiding him, but his father was quick to stop him.

"Rurram. If he can't stand, he can't ride a horse. Leave him alone."

As if to ease the boy's mind, the soldier reached an open palm out toward him as if to halt him, content enough to work through his pain as he excruciatingly arose, finally swaying weakly as he stood there, carefully stepping toward the door as Darim followed along, grabbing his own coat to follow the man out.

The soldier paused for a moment, however, turning his head over his shoulder toward the others, his voice ominous, almost breathless, "Study this face. If anybody shows up not wearing it, they're not her friend. Got it?"

Arie and Rurram both nodded, but as if upset by the man's insistence, Darim pushed him out the door, shaking his head as he yanked his hood over his head, "If anybody shows, we'll see how many swords they carry."

The man groaned with every step, leaving the warmth of the house behind him as he hobbled along, leaving Darim to turn and grab the door handle as he eyed his wife, Arie's eyes shaking worriedly. He only nodded to her before pulling the door closed, cursing under his breath at the predicament he'd been forced into, turning to follow this soldier through the mud.


	4. Missteps

**_Some days ago..._ **

Rurram eyed a singular branch that extended out from the might tree before him, a determined look on his face as if staring down a monster that was five times his size. He'd never been particularly scared of much growing up, much to his older brother's chagrin, Erol being unable to faze him with scary stories he'd taken from Cephia's books and later embellished to try and frighten the child even a little bit. Beyond an initial fright, Rurram would simply fall into a giggling fit, almost amused by his own reaction rather than scared of the story.

Even such a daunting task as climbing a tree proved to be more an issue of determining the best course of action, rather than whether or not to attempt such a thing. He knew he would, eventually. Sure enough, with a quick nod, Rurram grabbed ahold of whatever bark he could, pulling himself just high enough that his legs could half-wrap around the trunk, his knees doing more to keep him anchored than his feet, which tried to find a a slab of bark to push off of.

Slowly enough, but surely still, Rurram managed his way up the tree, making sure to take a look up to the tallest branch periodically, reminding himself of his ultimate goal, his eyes glazing over as he caught sight, once again, of the true target of his desire- a bright red apple, resting just out of reach from any ladder he could have acquired. He grinned mischievously, almost like he took some sort of pride in conquering gravity, and despite working up a sweat, he took ahold of the branch, pulling himself up to where he could straddle along it and shimmy along until he was within reach of his prize, greedily snatching the fruit and swaying his head back and forth happily as he took a bite, now surveying the landscape around him, seeing as how he had a far greater point of observation.

He noticed Erol returning home from atop the hill, his head and limbs dangling pathetically as he slid down the muddy slope, catching Rurram's curiosity. It wasn't often he caught his older brother in the throes if some downtrodden mood, particularly because Erol was "too cool" to allow his kid brother to see him less than the man he aspired to be, even at his age.

Rurram frowned sadly, leaning down so that his torso was against the limb, waiting for Erol to walk I to earshot before speaking, "Hey, brother."

Erol jumped in surprise, looking around to find the source of his brother's voice, "Okay, cut it out. Where are you?"

Without addressing the question, Rurram continued, sadly, "You okay?"

His voice being enough, Erol turned up toward the top branch of the apple tree, groaning as he realized that his brother must have seen him just a moment ago, "It's nothing. Just keep…keep doing whatever it is you're doing."

As the elder brother began toward the house again, Rurram dropped his arm down, reaching out his hand with the single-bitten apple, a sad look on his face, "Would this help?"

Erol sighed, knowing that such kind of person as his brother was simply being wasted on this brusque family, shaking his head as he answered lowly, "No. You earned it."

Rurram remained attentive as his brother disappeared into the house, still not convinced by his earlier admission that nothing was wrong. He carefully scurried down from his conquered tree, meandering up the hill to investigate further, taking miniscule bites out from his apple, having learned much earlier that the rind was the tastiest part.

As he came up to see the stables not far from him, he noticed Niras' wagon sitting along the dirt road, with Cephia sitting up in its passenger seat, appearing rather distant as she primly held her hands in her lap, staring off into space. The cogs in Rurram's mind beginning to churn, he walked along, toward the wagon, when his father and Niras left the stable, conversing amongst themselves with ginormous words of commerce that Rurram had no business even understanding at this age.

"-last one. A real stunner he is, took the Beggar's Turn like a champion, so I'll need a spot opened up. Care to take one?" Niras wondered aloud.

"Really?" Darim questioned in wonderment, "Are you sure?"

Niras chuckled, "Well it's either that or spend my savings building another stable! C'mon, I've given you enough dead-tired beasts; you deserve something you can actually enjoy watching running across the pasture."

"W-Wow," Darim softly exclaimed, unable to afford much of anything that wasn't expected to perish within the year, "I mean, I'd be more than happy to. Thank you."

"No problem, my friend," Niras smirked, "How about Barus? You seemed mighty happy with him when I first mentioned him."

Darim grumbled to himself, trying to remind himself, "Barus… Barus…"

Offering a helpful tongue, Niras happily reminded, "Y'know, the sploched one I stumbled upon down-"

Coming upon Cephia, Rurram's attention focused forward, his lips pulled to the side in confusion as he came to a stop right alongside the wagon, speaking up quietly, "Hey Ceph."

As though being pulled from a dream, Cephia's head suddenly whipped around, a surprised look fading into a relieved sigh, "Oh, goodness Rurram, you nearly caused me a fright!"

"S-Sorry," Rurram apologized, though it did little to alleviate his confusion, as hed been clearly within her line of sight, "Are you okay?"

Cephia's hand, which had jumped up to her chest in her shock, fell back into her lap as she bowed her head sadly, "It's nothing. I've just been thinking."

Groaning childishly, his curiosity once again abated, Rurram turned away with a frown, "Everybody's always thinking."

Cephia released a gentle smile, "Maybe that just comes with age."

"I guess," Rurram shrugged, "Doesn't sound much fine from what I hear. Every time I hear the word 'responsibility', it might as well be a bad word. Dad's gone on whole speeches about it over dinner."

Giggling at his precociousness, Cephia replied excitedly, "You mean you don't want to etch out your own place in this world?"

He frowned, "I'll I've done so far is etch out the crud from the horse stalls…"

Cephia refrained from teasing, simply staring off as she went on, "Well, it's not like you have to care for horses when you grow up. You could go off and do whatever you want. I mean, assuming you have your father's allowance of that…"

She turned her head over her shoulder, looking at their two father's still conversing, "Something seems off about him though."

"His balance," Rurram answered, mutely, as he tossed the core of his apple on the ground, shoving his hands into his pockets, "Last winter he screwed up his knee. I don't know how; I don't even think mom knows, but the three of us were so busy that we hadn't even realized he had been go e nearly all day. By the time mom realized, he just barely made his way into the house with a broken leg. Must have dragged himself maybe, but like I said, he never really explained it."

"Huh," Cephia murmured aloud, having turned back to Rurram, "He's never really seemed the type to be open about much, huh?"

Rurram groaned, "Erol caught it from him. I just try to help him feel better and he won't even bother."

Cephia's lips turned low, sadly, "Sorry…"

Now eyeing her suspiciously, Rurram questioned, "Why..? You didn't do something, did you?"

"It's more like something I didn't do," Cephia confided, quietly, "I hoped it didn't hurt him too much."

Rurram's eyes remained slanted, his childish mind still fully capable of rummaging through memories, collects bits and pieces of information until his synapses finally let loose with a, "Wait, did he ask to marry you?!"

Cephia's eyes blew up wide, "W-WHAT?! N-NO! He-He just-!"

"Marry?" Niras' voice suddenly appeared from behind the two, throwing a rucksack over the edge if the wagon, "What're you kids talking about these days?"

He turned to Darim with an amused smirk, though his peer's face only appeared serious as he watched his son turn his head toward his father, Rurram's lips pulling inward as he realized what he'd just inadvertently revealed. Darim's attention returned to Niras as the younger man went on without a thought, stepping up onto the front of the wagon and waving back toward his friend.

"I'll be back in a few days with the horse, assuming you're not too excited to see him!"

"Oh, no," Darim waved him off, "No need to rush, please. This is a kind enough gesture as it is, I assure you."

As the two finished their pleasantries, Rurram couldn't help but shiver as Niras slapped at the reins, the departing wagon signaling to the young child that his father's deep stare was equally approaching. Sure enough, as the wagon rolled out of earshot, Darim turned to Rurram, a serious look on his face.

"Who's been talking about getting married..?" he muttered.

Rurram's knees nearly clattered together as he bit his lower lip, his mind flooded with both his father's reaction as well as his older brother's reaction once the two were alone; two scoldings he would rather not endure. Still, as his head lowered to the ground, Rurram shut his eyes tight, nearly gritting his teeth as he answered.

"I-It's not like that; Erol was just-"

"Your brother, huh?" Darim interrupted alongside a slow nod, "Your fifteen year old brother?"

Rurram's head jolted up in a panic, "No, he wasn't talking about that! He just wanted run off and be his own man and whatever; he just mentioned the possibility of…"

His voice trailed off as his father's face grim more and more twisting in anger, Rurram knowing gradually enough that he'd made one too many missteps. His lips trembled as emotion flooded over him, first from his prediction of his being scolded, and now from what he was afraid his father was about to do to his brother. Darim remained dead silent, turning toward the decline of the hill and walking off, his leg still bearing a slight hobble as Rurram's brow curled in worry as he rushed after him.

"D-Dad! It was just him talking; he didn't mean it!"

As though not hearing him, Darim simply gave instruction, "Go lock up the stable."

Rurram shook visibly, torn between running ahead and telling Erol to run off or following his father's orders, rather quick to choose the latter as he stood still for a moment, grabbing his head as he watched his father slowly work his way down the slope. He groaned pitifully as he turned back toward the stable, shaking his head as he walked back, worriedly.


	5. Into the Night

Darim struggled to stomp his way up the hill toward the stables, suddenly losing sight of the stranger as his head lowered in exhaustion, trying his hardest to will life into his legs. The Hylian soldier, while also stricken with exhaustion, had youth on his side, and still fared much better in working through the searing pain that coursed through his legs, pulling his cloak tightly against his neck to keep his hood where it could protect his face from the downpour. He made it up in due time, finding the man's older boy scurrying from one end of the stable to the other, hastily preparing one of the horses which was still housed within.

"Sorry sir!" Erol shouted, gasping for air as he ran, "I'll have it saddled in no time at all! This one's a bit fidgety though."

The soldier threw a hand out from beneath his cloak, clutching the boy's shoulder as Erol's eyes flew open in shock. The hood of the stranger turned lazily as the man's face appeared in the glimmering moonlight, a superbly young face, though his eyes seemed to glow heatedly with blue flame.

"Don't call me sir," he muttered, shaking his head in disgust, "People who require subservience are called that. Call me Link. Alright?"

Erol stared at him in a near daze, though quickly nodded in reply, "Y-Yes sir- uh, Link…"

The soldier nodded approvingly as he released the boy, though Erol moved far less quickly now that he slowly made his way back into the stable, not allowing Link to exit his vision until he managed his way inside. Link lowered his shoulders as he grasped his knees, breathing heavily as each raindrop seemed to hit him like boulders in a barrage of pain. Slowly enough, Darim's head appeared from the slope nearby, his arrival earning an empty stare from the soldier.

"Is he…getting him ready?" the old man huffed, shaking his head as if unable to believe his own inability.

Link nodded, "Sure is. I'll be out of your hair shortly."

Darim eyed him, almost viciously, "Tell that to the woman in our bed who undoubtably has evil eyes on her."

His eyes turning curious, Link muttered in reply, "How do you figure?"

"She needs a goddamn bodyguard; why else but to protect her?" Darim shot back with no sense of tact, "You clearly aren't worth much more than that sword of yours. Speaking of-"

Link's glare followed Darim's visage as the old man sauntered toward the stable, shouting out loud enough for the gods to hear, "BOY!"

In a second, Erol appeared at the door, a look of worry in his face as though he were expecting to be in trouble for taking so long, "Almost done!"

"NO!" Darim shouted, waving his son over as the fierce pattering of these torrential rains tried their hardest to wash his voice out, "Go get this man's sword. I'll finish up here."

Erol nodded obediently as he started off in a rush down the hill, leaving the two men to make their way into the stable. Darim coughed violently as he stomped into the building, his heavy steps vibrating all along the interior. He pulled down his hood as he saw his newest horse, Barus, shaking his body as he attempted to remove the half-applied saddle from his back. Darim groaned heatedly at the horses' demeanor, shaking his head as he nearly stumbled over.

"Damn beast. The old ones are far more enjoyable," he muttered to himself, almost in projection, "Some Yiga men have been scampering around these parts the last few days. Certainly picked a fine time to bring a princess through here."

The man stared, watching Darim nearly falter on more than a single occasion as he worked on the saddle, "I simply go where I'm told."

"Well, you've got two things going for you," Darim grunted, pausing for a moment to collect his breath.

His uninvited guest suddenly stomped toward him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away, deciding it best to merely saddle up the horse himself. Darim didn't need much more of an invitation for rest, and he slowly walked over toward the stable door through which his horse would leave, leaning against the adjacent wall.

"Don't think I was exaggerating," Darim noted aloud, "I'd sacrifice my family for no man, much less your king. You'd best hurry; a round trip might be three or four days, assuming you don't run my horse to its death."

Link nodded, lifting his leg up into the stirrup and lifting himself onto the suddenly unruly horse, his eyes clenching as he yanked on the reins, only sending Barus into further disobedience, leaving Darim to groan with impatience.

"Have you never ridden a horse before?!" he shouted, his feet fumbling along the wooden floor as he made his way up to the horse's side, "This ain't one of those steeds your king has bred to be enslaved, boy! Look!"

Darim reached up, stroking the side of Barus' head, leaning in close as a foggy breath left his mouth, "Whoa there. Whoa."

Barus seemed to calm somewhat under Darin's shockingly gentle voice as Link looked on, stunned. He leaned his body forward and attempted to emulate the old man, stroking the beast's neck, though omitting any spoken word.

At this, Darim crossed his arms, "Well speak to him! He's not bred to only follow orders; he'll only take you as far as he'll allow you to go! Befriend him!"

Link grimaced at the thought, having grown to know horses only for their practical uses, though he humored the old man, quietly cooing, as though embarrassed, "Whoa… Whoooa…"

Barus slowed gradually enough, already having been calmed somewhat by Darim's hand. Link sighed in relief, shaking his head as he pulled himself up, closing his eyes as if to commit the old man's instruction to memory. Darin sauntered back toward the stall, muttering to himself in annoyance as the stable door proper crashed open, Erol's footsteps clattering along the floor before he spun around the corner, sliding to a stop as he stared up at Link's majestic visage atop the steed, such an activity having been forbidden for Erol himself.

He reverently held up the sword, which Link accepted readily, strapping it over his shoulder as his hands worked beneath his cloak, his eyes turning toward Darim, "You've got a young man right there should you need help. I'll be quick to return."

Erol's face ran crimson at this soldier's words, failing to notice his father's stare, "We'll see about him."

With the loud grating of wood on rock, Darim slid open the stall door, the thunderous crashing of thunder suddenly tearing through the interior of the stable as Barus reared mightily, neighing loudly at the frightening cacophony of thunder and lightning. As he fell back onto all fours, Link gave a great yell as he slapped the reigns, Barus immediately tearing out of the stable and into the slick darkness of the stormy night, leaving Darim to push the door back until the madness outside was dulled behind the wooden frame.

Darim sighed in exhaustion, lowering his head as he slowly wandered back toward his son, speaking far softer than his son was ever used to, "Don't get any ideas."

"N-No. Of course not," Erol replied, quickly, though with a confused look on his face by his father's seeming accusation.

Without stopping, Darim continued on toward the front door of the stable, reaching out to pat the snout of a stallion as he passed along, silently bearing the pain welling up along his leg. Erol was quick to follow along, making sure he was nearby, ready to catch the man should he fall. Even if his father wouldn't ever ask for help, after the other day, Erol understood his old man well enough, now, to remain there attentively.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Link's face grimaced as droplets of rain hit his face like stones with how fast this horse sped down the dirt road, sending spatterings of cold mud into the wind behind the two of them. As his body slammed against the horses' hide, his heart racing from the speed surround his body, he suddenly, loathingly, recalled just how exhausting it could be riding a steed, even one as aged as this one. To the horses' credit, once Barus took off, he refused to stop, a lineage of non-stop racing equinage coursing through his veins about as fast as his hooves were taking him.

As Link's exhaustion mounted, his eyes began to float wearily between alertness and sleep, nearly feeling the blood rushing from his head as the sheer speed of the animal, alongside its lithe footwork around corners and obstacles, he suddenly found himself wavering between reality and the world of memories within his mind. Slow crossing over into a dream, Link saw the throne of his king, just a few months prior, when he had been tasked with-

"NEEEIGH!"

Link's eyes shot open, having given Barus no direction at a fork in the road, sending him straight toward a cliff. His arms mechanically shot back with the reigns, even though the horse had the wherewithal to skid to a stop himself, though with the added disorientation caused by the sudden tug, Barus' body lost traction, sending his backside swinging toward the cliff. Link desperately clung onto the reigns as his body swung off the backside of the horse, his shoulder slamming into the ground with a thud as he rolled toward the edge, powerless to stop himself until his hands suddenly recoiled, his fingers still unbound from the reigns.

Barus had lowered his head, pulling back in an attempt to keep himself from sliding further toward the cliff, though this also kept Link from sliding to near-certain doom. As Link took a foothold on some wayward rock, it allowed Barus the chance to collect himself, an almost relieved snort escaping him as Link lay there, exhausted, face down in a collection of slop and mud.

Warily pushing himself back up, he further recalled that day, thinking of his sworn oath to protect the king's daughter as she was to traverse the world, his head falling forward as he took to his feet, slowly returning to the horse as the endless rain broke through the air like never-ending crashing. He had sworn to protect her, yet here he was, rushing in the opposite direction.

He wiped his face off with the sleeve of his cloak, grimacing angrily as he reached out for the bridle, cursing under his breath. He recalled that old man's words from just moments earlier- he was just a sword. A hired hand. A soldier of Hyrule, no better than a mercenary.

But, had they wanted better; had they wanted somebody prepared for every single eventuality, they should have gotten somebody else, he thought to himself. All he could do, he knew, was what he could. He hadn't even touched medicine since he'd matured into an adult- the last thing he could do was do as that old man, Darim, had suggested and go out and gather the proper herbs for medicine.

What he could do, Link thought, was get back atop this horse, and not stop until his job was finished.

He pulled himself back onto Barus, breathing heavily as he slowly directed the beast backwards, trying to find the proper road. He had promised the king to protect his daughter from death, and now, all he could do was not stop until he did so, even protecting her from this illness.

He was only a sword. It was all he'd even been.


	6. Father and Son

**_Some days ago..._ **

The front door creaked open, forcing Arie's attention to turn as she sat at the dining table, slicing up some radishes that would be canned and preserved for when the rain was too heavy for much else. Feeling her husband's foot rumbling through the house as it stomped on in, she only lowered her head to her previous activity, focusing on the knife carving along. As Darim hung up his day coat, he looked around, presumably for his son, quick to ask his wife for the boy's location.

Without a nod, she answered, "Should be in his room. Kind of stomped on in there like something was wrong."

Darim released a quiet, heated breath through his nostrils as he made his way through the house, the wooden floor beneath him creaking unevenly under his weight, his bad leg still being favored as he pushed open the boy's door at the handle. He found Erol laying face down on his bed, his face buried in his pillow, which was an odd sight for anybody who was expected to work while the sun was out. Either he didn't see how wet his son's pillow was with tears or he simply ignored it as he spoke up, grumblingly.

"C'mon, boy. We've got some work while dusk is upon us."

Erol shook his head, his voice shaking painfully, "Dad, I-!"

"Now!" Darim ordered heatedly, turning away with a hobble, "I'm not going to say it again."

He left his son with an angry punch at his pillow, Darim slowing going back through the house, finding his wife frowning as she screwed on a jar of preserves. He grabbed ahold of the edge of the table to support himself, leaning closer to his wife with an inquisitive sort of glare, Arie's face slowly turning up toward him as if in challenge.

"You think I'm too hard on him," Darim noted, simply, as though this were a total forgone conclusion at this point.

Arie eyed him, "I always think you're too hard on him."

Darim groaned, pushing himself upright, "I see too much of myself in that kid to allow him the same mistakes I made. I toiled and lived in too much shit to let him make his way through the same path."

"And I'll be forced to remind you that he's not the same person as you were, regardless of how similar you claim he is to you growing up," Arie shrugged, slowly labeling the jar in her hand.

Darim frowned, "He was talking about getting married, Arie. at fifteen. Even if this was as good a woman as you, he hasn't even lived his life- he'd never understand what he has."

Arie's eyes turned up toward him in a wry sort of glance, "Sometimes I wonder if you understand what you have."

Her eyes turned away from his just as her husband's eyes went dim, her own pair noticing Erol sauntering into the dining room, his fist shoved into his pockets and his head hung low, doing his best to demonstrate just how unwilling he was to be here. Without another word, Darim huffed an angry breath as he stomped off, waving for his son to follow. Before budging once again, Erol turned his lowly head to his mother, who sighed, reaching up to fix his collar.

"I'm sorry," she muttered apologetically, sighing, "Just bear with it, alright? You know he means well."

Erol rolled his eyes, which was a rebellious sort of gesture his mother despised, though she easily preferred him to do it before her instead of his father, before he turned, head hanging low, heading toward the front door as it shut behind his father. Darim turned down the front porch area, spotting out a rather large mallet that they would use to drive stakes into the ground. It had laid there since he'd dropped it there after returning home with his injury, the wood swelled from rainfall. He swept his hand down to grab ahold of it before starting out into the pasture, Erol's distant face suddenly turning serious as he noticed his father's instrument.

Still, he went along, not noticing Rurram, which was for the best, he figured. His father had never once laid a malicious hand on him, though Erol knew very well that all their fences had been set already. He figured it was better than a shovel, but he still had no idea what his father was up to until they were quite a ways away from the home.

The two of them made their way down the large slope that comprised most of northern Akkala, Darim leading them down in to the direction of the quarry where many boulders made for dangerous terrain for the old man's horses. He had began stretching line for fencing to prevent the horses from wandering too far into that place, though as the two of them carefully slid down the massive Akkalan slopes, Erol began to notice a number of boulders and rock formations closer than he'd thought.

This fencing chore had been one of the many tasks Darim refused to allow into his son's hands, and in truth, he and Arie both expressly prevented the two boys from coming down here for the same reason as the horses.

"I've never been this far south before," Erol muttered, his curiosity at being led so far from home getting the best of him.

His father remained muted, merely continuing in his way as Erol began to figure out what the two were doing. They came across a collection of stakes lying out atop the soil, perhaps left after his father's injury prevented him from continuing. By now, the rocky terrain outmatched the grassland behind them, and Darim slowly bent down to grab ahold of one of the stakes, silently aiming it into the ground before hammering it down, grunting painfully with every strike.

Erol frowned, "I can help you know. I figured that's why you brought me along."

As Darim continued slamming the mallet atop the metal stake, he grumbled heavily under his labored breaths, ignoring his son's inquiry, "So you're ready to run off, eh?"

Erol's eyes grew wide, "W-What?"

"Ready to get married and lose yourself in this world. Is that right?"

His father hadn't stopped working or turned to see him, but Erol still felt the man's excruciating stare upon him as he worriedly lowered his head without an answer, understanding what his father had come to know. He was being punished for something that wouldn't ever come to fruition, he pondered, sadly, though he knew he would never apologize for that zephyrous desire to leave this place and explore the world.

"I thought I'd taught you enough," Darim continued, "Obviously that's not the case."

Erol frowned, feeling his frustrations grow as he replied, lowly, "You wouldn't know much about teaching anything."

In a swift moment, Darim's body froze, his arm pulling into a still frame as his head slowly turning over his shoulder, eyeing his son with a sort of stare that showed off his shock at having been talked back to. Though fear swelled from with Erol, he remained as serious as he could muster, his own stare matching his father's.

"What did you say, boy?" Darim muttered under his breath, still unmoved.

Erol shot back, "You heard me."

Now slowly turning to face his son, Darim shone a vicious glare as his son bit back, angrily, "You won't let us do a damn thing! How the hell are we supposed to learn a damn thing when you refuse to let us?! Look at you! You can barely stand and you're still such a stubborn ass that you won't let me help!"

Darim's eyes turned icy as he replied, almost in a growl, "You want to learn something your way? You want to be able to run off and be your own man, huh?"

"Yes!" Erol fired back, "What, you think I want to be here for any longer than I want to be?!"

He knew such statements were affecting his father, though by now, he was releasing so much vitriol that he didn't much care. His father's stare down, that he was actually matching, was proof enough that he was adequately beneath his father's skin. Without much thought, Erol went on, his mouth unfiltered as he shot out

"I know you don't even love us, but for crying out loud, just-!"

He paused suddenly, only just noticing his father's face soften into a pained expression that exceeded anything Erol had seen resulting from his bad knee. A heavy ball of lead slowly grew in the pit of his stomach as wave of nauseous guilt flooded over him, his head lowering mournfully as his father looked on, his voice appearing only quietly.

"You want to be a man, huh?" Darim muttered, cryptically, taking a step toward his son, mallet held loose in his hand.

Suddenly taken aback by his father's massive frame approaching him, Erol took a step back, finally recoiling from the stand off the two had partaken in. His father took another set of steps and Erol room another back, his eyes wide in near-horror, fixing on the large object in his father's hand, terrified at what was to come.

As he drew back, his foot happened upon one of the rocks jutting out from the earth, sending him falling backwards as his arms wildly flew around, trying to brace for his fall, but all he felt was the entirety of his lungs expelling from his mouth as the ground rocked his chest, leaving him breathless from the impact. His eyes shut tightly in pain, only opening as a loud thump made its way through his ears.

He saw the mallet at his side, his father having dropped it there as he stopped in front of where he lay, staring down at him as Erol's eyes darted up toward his father's. Darim shoved his hands into his coat pockets, staring critically as he took a moment to think to himself, though all this did to Erol was force his heart to race in suspense.

"You have a wife and child," Darim began, effortlessly, "You're out doing everything in your power to make sure they both have a home. That they have good to eat. That there's water, and that everything they need is in account. You would give everything to keep them happy, after all."

Darim continued, "One day, you're out providing for them, when a shake of the earth knocks a boulder loose, knocking you to the ground and trapping your foot beneath its mass."

He slowly extended his foot out, pulling the mallet closer to his son's side before placing his foot atop Erol's ankle, his son's eyes shaking feverishly. He stared down at his leg, realizing what his father was emulating, unable to tear his attention away long enough to notice the mallet as his side.

"They need to eat tonight," Darim went on, gravely, "And you're trapped. So… what do you do to make sure you get home in time to get them fed?"

Erol tried to yank his leg away from out from beneath his father's foot, but a sudden push of strength from Darim kept him trapped, leaving the son surprised by such power from an injured leg. Darim's face churned seriously as he began to shout out at his son.

"What do you do, huh?! What do you do?!"

As his emotions waded to the fore, his mind racing with panic from his father's yelling and his having trapped him, tears began to appear at Erol's eyes as he tried his hardest to choke out whatever reply he could, "I- I don't-"

Darim grew more persistent, pointing at the mallet with a sharp flip of his arm, despite his son's lowered head, "You take that goddamned mallet and do what you have to do to get back home!"

Erol's tears overflowed as he now fully understood what his father was asking him to do, his breaths turning shallow as his throat coiled up in tension. His arms shook visibly, frightened to the core that he was to be left like this until he'd torn through the nerves within his knee in an effort to rip his foot free from his father's powerful foot without the hindrance of overwhelming pain.

He slowly lifted his head in a pleading sort of pitiful glance but stopped as he noticed his father's own knee, which remained about as swollen as it had been the night he'd come home that one night. His tears continued as he realized what his father was alluding to; unbeknownst to any of them, he'd been in the same situation Erol was in, now, only his father's situation had required much more dire consequences. In this realization, Erol's vision snapped up, his eyes softening further as he saw, through the haze of tears, his own father's eyes dripping with the same fluid, having been forced to stand above his son and tell him to do something so vicious.

"Please don't ever say that I don't love you," Darim muttered, quietly, though a shivering voice, "I would tear apart every bone in my body if it meant you were safe. That's what love is; that's what it means to be a man. Are you willing to give up your own body, your whole life, for another person?"

Erol shivered as his father's foot released its pressure, spinning away before pulling back beneath his father, who teetered from side to side until he regained his support, "I know that heart of yours, Erol. I had it too when I was a child. It'll steal away and squander your best years if you allow it to."

His name, paired with his father's voice. It was a combination he hadn't remembered ever hearing before.

Darim leaned down to offer his hand, which Erol accepted, the old man pulling his son not only up to his feet but into a powerfully tight hug, which Erol was in too much sudden shock to reciprocate. Although his father's tearful shaking was sad in nature, Erol couldn't help but feel a particular comfort at feeling his father in such a state, the old man having allowed his son, for a single time, beneath his armor. Slowly, Erol wrapped his own arms around him, truly coming to understand a fraction of his father's will and determination.

Sighing heartily, Darim began, "Sorry. If my own father had cared enough, I might be able to say I'd be a decent one myself. For all those years I had to learn how to be a husband, I've had to also learn how to be a father."

He looked down at his son's scalp, frowning, "I just don't want you to make the same mistakes as me."

Without speaking, more so because he was afraid his choked up voice would only result in a similar result, Erol only nodded into his father's chest, allowing his father a quick breath of relief, reaching up to wipe away his face before pulling away, reaching down for the mallet and handing it to his son.

"Alright, you want me to let you do more?" he asked, rhetorically, "Here. How about you put up the fence, huh?"

Erol nodded, reaching his own sleeve up to his face, "It probably won't get me in as much trouble to prove my worth like this, instead of lashing out or whatever."

"Eh, if you're anything like me, that rebellion with serve you well if you learn how to wield it. The King is always seeking ways to tighten his grip around our wallets," Darim muttered grimly as he watched his son begin to drive the other stakes into the ground, suddenly pointing out a finger, "Hey, watch it now! Only watch the ground for a moment before keeping an eye on the mallet!"

At this bit of instruction, Erol grinned beneath reddened eyes, carefully proceeding to finish what his father had started.


	7. Invasion

Arie walked out from the bedroom as she held her chin in thought, her lips curled inward as she ran over the health of their guest, her eyes flashing up toward Darim, who stood by the window, peering out toward the top of the hill, waiting for Erol to return from tending to the horses.

A few days had passed since that soldier had arrived, and with the torrential rains having passed, it left much of the plains lands muddy and unfit for the horses to graze. As such, they were restrained to the stables up near the main road, and Erol had been tasked with checking up on their health and feed in the meantime.

Arie rubbed her scalp, picking at her hair nervously as she spoke up notably, "Her fever is beginning to subside, though I'm not sure if that's a good thing if she's still out cold. At least with a fever, we know her body is still fighting. What are you looking at?"

Darim leaned away from the window, though his eyes remained focused outside, "Erol. Just making sure he gets back safely."

In the days since the were saddled with this uninvited guest, every time any of them had gone up to the stable, a unsuspecting wagon or horseback rider would happen to be traveling the road, which might have gone unnoticed had Darim not lived here for decades now. Akkala was circled by two different roads, and while Darim had settled along the coastal road, it was far from the preferable route for many travelers or merchants. It's only true use was scenic in nature, while the other road went along to the northwest, far closer to the quarries and mountainside of Death Mountain, making it a far more lucrative route.

Darim knew far too well, this sudden rise in traffic was not at all normal.

Erol suddenly popped over the peak of the hill, scurrying down toward his lakeside home as Darim made his way to the door, sliding open the lock as he sighed with relief, allowing his son to jump into the house before shutting the house up again, taking care to lock up once again, a practice that had been foreign to the household until just a few days ago. Erol huffed exhausted as he keeled forward, grasping his knees as he looked up toward his father.

"Two wagons this time. Didn't look like they were local either," Erol explained between gasps of air, his mother gently running a hand along his back to help relieve him.

Darim frowned, shaking his head, "I told you we shouldn't have taken her in. This can't be anything but trouble. Go make sure your brother is inside; I don't want either of you outside for now."

Erol nodded, making his way further into the house as Arie approached the window herself, resting a concerned hand on her husband's shoulder, "How do you know they're bad news?"

"Just a feeling," Darim uttered in explanation, "As soon as the goddamned princess of Hyrule shows up, we start getting foot traffic. No doubt plenty of Akkalans still despise the crown; god knows what they'd do to this one if they got their hands on her."

Arie grimaced at the thought, recalling the event her husband was alluding to, shaking her head, "They wouldn't know she'd be here, though- none of us have talked."

Darim nodded, "Which gives me reason to believe someone bigger than a disgruntled farmer is trailing her. That's what frightens me the most."

The two of them remained at the window until Erol returned with Rurram in tow, the younger of the two absently fiddling with an abacus as Erol nodded, "We're good."

"Alright," Darim muttered with relief, thinking to himself for a moment, "Assuming he hasn't run that horse into the ground, the soldier should be-"

"Link," Erol explained, bluntly.

Darim's lips curled into a frown as if his son had named a animal that was to be put to slaughter, "Link. I can't see him taking another day or so. Once he takes her, we're devoid of responsibility- they can kill the princess just outside if they want to, but I'm not giving that man anymore than we've had to already."

He pulled away from the window, starting back into the house through his hobbled gait, slowing up as Rurram began curiously, "They aren't those 'Beat Ya' guys, are they?"

"Yiga," Erol corrected, drolly.

Darim grumbled beneath his breath, "I wouldn't think so; they stay in uniform when they come down this way. They know most Akkalans harbor ill-will toward the Royal Family so they hardly bother to hide themselves. We'll just stay inside; it won't be much trouble at all. Does she need anything?"

Shaking her head, Arie replied while crossing her arms, "No, I switched out the spare pajamas on her this morning; all she needs is medicine."

"Well, that's out of our hands," Darim shrugged, relieving his psyche of responsibility, "As long as we're wait on-"

Knock knock

Darim's eye caught the front door about as soon as everybody else, the house turning dead silent once the rapping at the door escaped existence, leaving a heavy cloud of dread above the family. He turned a serious expression toward Erol, who was closest to a window down the wall, the teenager quietly stepping toward the heftily curtained pane of glass, peeking out from a crack that appeared as he gently pulled the fabric away, turning back to his father.

He mouthed, silently, "Soldiers."

Sure enough, at the door were three soldiers, dressed in appropriately Hylian regalia who, despite the obvious leader of the bunch, remained at attention. The man in front of the other two examined his hand as he awaited the owner's reply, though now that a few moments had passed, his head turned up expectantly, figuring weather to knock again or not.

Darim stepped forward toward the door, waving at Erol to return to his mother as he spoke up, quietly, "I'll see what they want. Arie, keep the boys smart about this, alright?"

His wife nodded reflexively, grabbing ahold of Rurram's shoulder to pull against her as Darim grabbed the handle just before another round of knocking began. He pulled it open, quick enough to see the soldier with a fist in the air, perhaps simply to witness the air of confusion amongst the royal-looking man.

"Ahem," the soldier began, pulling his fist back to his mouth to cover a nervous cough, "Sir, I'm the King's ensign; we're on the trail of a member of royalty who was kidnapped by a fugitive and we're just-"

"A smart fugitive, then," Darim shrugged, easily.

The ensign suddenly eyed him with a vicious stare, throwing his head to the side in a sharp signal to one of his men, who slowly began toward the side of the house. Darim watching him carefully, a look of dismay arising in his eyes as the commanding office crossed his arms in a haughty manner.

The officer spoke up once again, "Why do you say that? A smart fugitive?"

A flicker spun around Darim's eye as a realization crossed him, though he replied in kind, "Turn your men around; there's not a man or woman out here who'd harbor a member of royalty."

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," he spoke in authoritative zeal, "We're the King's men. When the King tells us to search every house in the area where his daughter was last seen, he expects us turn every house over in search of her. Now, we're going to search your home, one way or another; if you have enough spawn in there to cover ever door and window, we'll make our own. Got it?"

The subordinate disappeared from Darim's eyesight as he rounded the corner, leaving Darim with an upset frown as he replied, "Not many Akkalans would allow a royal soldier to search their homes, either. My word is plenty- we have-"

"Was that your boy up there?"

Darim's heart skipped a beat, the soldier's haughty voice turning a cold sort of a dastardly threat, "We caught a glimpse up him past that stable. Would be a shame if Zakan over there had to make his own doorway into your home and have something done to the boy."

The old man's breaths grew shallow as he remained in the frame of the door, quickly taking account of the situation. These were not soldiers, he could already tell, given their obliviousness at recognizing Akkalan hatred for the Royal Family. But if they weren't soldiers, who else could be hunting down the princess? Who else would have the ability and hatred to kill and steal a band of soldier's armor?

"Well?" the officer asked, cocking his head back, reaching at the sword that hung from his belt.

Darim eyed him. He wasn't about to risk his family for that woman in there.

"Take a look," Darim answered, with as much restrained belligerence as he could muster, "We've nothing to hide."

The officer nodded with a smarmy grin, stepping past the threshold only to be met with the stern voice of Darim, "If you touch my wife or sons, I won't be so accommodating."

"Understood," the soldier smiled, now with a feigned sincerity, staring down at the man's legs, "Not that you'd be able to put up a fight with that leg of yours, but I admire your spirit."

Darim didn't move, only turning his head as the two men began looking around the living area of his home, a quiet grumble leaving him as his eyes peeked up toward the back of the house. Toward the closed door leading to that room. He stepped along in time with the soldiers, watching over them as they pulled away chairs and their couch, turning over their dining room table and tossing rugs to the side.

Then, the officer eyed the closed door, giving Darim a sidelong glance as he pointed toward it, "Not hiding anything?"

The old man shrugged, "Nothing but my family, perhaps. Looks like they're in there."

As if preparing for an ambush, the officer whipped out his sword, pressing his body against the door itself as he clutched the handle, his lackey appearing behind him and bracing up alongside him, the two of them bursting into the room, met with a cry of surprise from a young boy sitting in the corner, nearly falling out of his chair. Another, older boy turned around from the bed, a dark-haired woman laying there with a rag over her forehead.

The officer stared at the three of them, one after the other, attempting to ascertain the situation from the doorway, finally taking a step into the room, the older boy snapping around quickly to face him, "Don't you dare touch-!"

"Erol!" Darin shouted from the hallway, "They just want to see what's going on. How's your mother's fever?"

The officers eyebrow rose inquisitively as the boy answered, "Better."

Darim nodded, sating the curiosity of the lackey who stood beside him, eyeing him maliciously, "Let these men get a look around so they'll be on their way."

Erol's face remained in a stony rebellion, even after Rurram had run up and grabbed him along the leg, reaching down to lead his kid brother to the wall to allow the officer his search. Obliging, the officer took a step onto the creaking boards beneath, scanning the entire room, trying to figure out what he must have been missing.

There was a pile of damp rags, and a couple of feminine-styled shirts that all lay in the corner, seeming to confirm this woman's illness, though the officer remained entirely skeptical as he roamed slowly along the room, cautiously pulling closet doors open and looking behind curtains.

Darim wanted to speak up and move him along, though he understood that anything of the sort would have come across as suspicious, leaving him to wait patiently, unshowingly approving of his family's work. His own eyes began to wander down the backside of the officers croney, particularly the length of his armored greaves that failed to reach down to his boots, just barely, but certainly at enough of a distance that would catch the eye of any of the king's inspectors. He couldn't tell by that whether they were Yiga, or some other collection of men, but he knew they were certainly feigning royal ties. Knowing that, a fear crossed Dar's mind, understanding that little was barring these two strangers from simply carving his entire family up right here and now.

His eyes then flashed toward the officer's feet, running along the near-invisible crease in the floor leading into the crawl space, where their contraband undoubtedly lay. Remembering not to allow his sight to lo her, he returned to the officer as he spun toward the door, groaning beneath his breath.

"It's clean. Men of their word are too rare in this world," he proposed aloud, professionally adjusting the gauntlets atop his wrists, "Almost too rare."

Darim shrugged, "My word, my family, and my home are all I have."

"Uh huh," the officer nodded, waving his cohort along, "You've made that clear enough. We're a member of the royal family to arise, might I have your word that you'd let me know post haste?"

Darim replied quickly and easily, "I don't see why not. I have no reason to allow any of them to cross my threshold."

The officer watched him carefully as he spoke, finally nodding his head just barely, stomping along the shallow floor as he left the room, turning to the front door as Darim followed along, leaving the three there as Erol kept an eye on the door. Rurram, overwhelmed from the entire invasion and forcing himself to remain steady in their presence, finally allowed himself to shake tearfully, burying his face in Erol's side as he held his older brother tightly. In turn, Erol absently rubbed his brother's back as he remained on guard, turning to see his mother's open eyes as Arie turned her head to peer out the door, ensuring the invaders wouldn't return.

"You did great, Rurram," she confirmed from across the room, "Just hold on for a bit longer, just in case they show up again. Erol, go check on your father, and be scarce about it, right?"

He nodded, gently relieving himself from his brother, though this only allowed him a chance to see how red his kid brother's face had become, forcing him to kneel down and bring out a handkerchief to clear Rurram's face, which turned out to be more arduous as tears continued flowing, Rurram desperately trying to stop but finding it near impossible as his face shivered.

"We're okay now," Erol confirmed, nodding approvingly, "Don't worry; nothing's going to happen, right?"

Rurram nodded.

"Good," Erol confirmed, "Now repeat it."

Rurram quivered, his voice fluid with emotion, "Nothin's gonna happen."

"Alright. You're in charge of watching mom, but I'll be back," he finished, pulling away and throwing a approving gesture toward his mother, who nodded approvingly as Erol left the room, sneaking through the hallway and bending down low, taking the slightest glance into the living room toward the front door, finding his father there as the croney filed out in front of the office, the two of them being followed by Darim.

"I'll keep an eye out, "Darim concluded, pushing the door closed behind him, taking the chance as he turned his body to allow his eyes to wander, trying to find the second man who'd come along with this main man.

The officer nodded approvingly, "Good. Rhoam will be sure to reward you handsomely were you to do so- he's very concerned for the safety of his daughter."

"I understand," Darim concluded, holding his stare steadily toward the officer, choosing to allow him the last word, again avoiding any sort of suspicion.

"Well, we have a long day's trek ahead of us, so we'll get a move on," the officer concluded, turning to his companion, "Go get that fool- he's probably gone for a swim or something. As for you, farmer, good day."

Darim nodded reverently before turning back toward into his home, disappearing in through the door and sighing with the weight of fifteen worlds rolling from his shoulders. He took a moment to collect himself, turning up to see Erol emerging from his hiding spot.

"Keep your mother at it for-"

"For a while longer, in case they come back," Erol completed, shrugging, "We know."

Darim nodded, though with a cryptic, sort of slow motion, "Good. Good boy."


	8. The Brink

Darim and Erol returned to the guest room to find Rurram on all fours, his head above the open slat of baseboards he'd had lifted, examining the Princess laying there, encased in a wooden box of sorts that had been buried beneath the floor to hide contraband. While she might have been considered as such in this moment, Darim hadn't ever figured he'd one day have anything of royalty this close to the small pit of earth, much less a person. Rurram nodded to his mother to denote her well being, slowly enclosing her once again as Arie thanked him.

"She's fine," Arie clarified, looking toward her husband.

He nodded, looking over his shoulder, "We'll give it just a few more minutes. Though, I did learn one thing- those men are definitely Yiga men; they must have ambushed some soldiers and dinner their armor, hardly any of their gear fit as well as it's supposed to."

"W-Well then, we need to get a move on!" Arie spoke up, worriedly, though turned to a hushed, almost whispering tone, "Those are dangerous men!"

Darim replied flatly, "We'll stay right here. There's not much more we can do; if we flew, we're all but admitting to something we shouldn't have any knowledge of. I'll keep an eye out, and as soon as we're able, Erol and I will fetch two horses and we'll all rush up toward the large stable to the north."

Erol faught to withhold a beaming face at the sound of his father's approval of his help, knowing this was hardly the time for such a thing. Instead, he went to comfort Rurram, who was still quite shaken by the whole ordeal, the youngest still quivering though he'd stopped crying by now. Arie attempted to calm herself as well, though she worked her way over toward a nearby shelf and began moving stuff back and forth, finding some distraction in organizing. Darim returned to the living room, his two boys following along behind him, both of them remaining attentive as their father carefully peered out the window, eyeing the top of the hill where the stable sat.

"Rurram," Darim spoke, causing his youngest to flinch in shock, "Go be a good boy and set the table for lunch, alright?"

Erol patted his shoulder before directing Rurram away, turning back toward his father, who spoke up quietly, "That ought to get his mind off things."

"Who are these Yiga guys?" Erol questioned, trying to get his own look out the window from a distance.

"Bad men," Darim answered, steadily, "They're descendants of the ancient Shiekah or something, but their minds are filled will the evilest of thoughts and intentions- evils that often grow too dark to speak of that it becomes lost to time, only sprouting up again as if in punishment for allowing that evil to leave our minds completely."

He pulled the curtain to a close, turning to his son with his face remaining still, "They despise the Royal Family; they would revel in any one of them being killed. Considering how little the people this far out in Akkala regard the same government that acts as the King's own hand, it's not surprising to see them wandering around here so freely, especially if word has spread that the Princess is out here somewhere, traveling with a lone soldier."

Erol nodded slowly, understanding the grave situation they had just avoided, running his hand through his hair, "We really got away with our lives, huh?"

"Which is why I'm not at all intent on doing anything brash right now," Darim went on, "If the Yiga have been wandering up and down the trail so freely, in disguise no less, they are prepared to do whatever it takes to find that girl."

He returned to peering out the window, leaving Erol to lower his head reverently as he thought to himself, Arie coming into the small living area as she nervously paced around, tapping her fingernails against her cheek as she muttered, "Are they gone?"

Darim took a second before finally nodding, slowly, "It appears so; I haven't seen anybody come back down from the hill."

"Good, good!" Arie continued, rushing up to Erol and grabbing his shoulder, "Okay, Erol, help me get some stuff together- just the important things, alright?"

He nodded as the two of them left his father at the window, hearing a loud CRASH flying past their ears from the kitchen, forcing both of them to flinch as Erol's mind jumped to his younger brother, terrified.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Bolo!" the officer quietly arose his voice, snapping at his second-hand man who'd gone missing, "Bolo, you dolt!"

The two men separated, crouching low as they both made their way around opposite ends of the house in search of this Bolo fellow, the officer growling lowly as he found him trouncing around near the nearby lake, directly in view from two of the windows of the house. He angrily grabbed his collar, yanking him down to the ground and dragging him back toward the side of the wooden abode.

"Idiot! If they see us hanging around, they'll never leave!" the officer, Nazol, fiercely sneered, shaking his head in dismay, "They give me one initiate to replace my last four guys, and it had to be you, you fool!"

Bolo whined, "S'ry boss, I'm tryin' m'best."

"Your 'best' is little better than the crud in the crevices of my boot," Nazol growled, furiously, suddenly whipping his head around, "Now where's Mugull?!"

"Here, sir," his second answered, having snuck around the last corner of the house and ducked beside the others, "I didn't hear much noise coming from inside. Normally, they go scurrying after we threaten 'em like that."

Nazol frowned, "Perhaps we weren't clear enough for that old fool. We'll wait for a moment, see what happens; we catch 'em slippin', we pounce like feral beasts. I didn't like the man's smugness- like he thought he knew us better than we did."

"You don't think he knew we weren't guards?" Mugull wondered, leaning back as Bolo whipped his neck toward him in shock, sending spittle flying from behind his baggy lips.

"HOW COULD THEY'VE-?!"

With a swift elbow, Nazol silenced his newest recruit, sending Bolo nearly to the ground after pounding him in the midsection, the leader of the three cursing quietly, "Probably because of your fucking loud mouth! Even if they happen to suspect a thing, I have no need for this house to remain here."

Mugull's eyes slanted curiously, leaning forward to get a read on his leader's face, "You don't mean…"

"Oh, I mean," Nazol clarified, rummaging through his pocket, "Not only that, I'll do ya one better. I found a particularly paunchy banana for Young Master Kohga and he found it in his heart to offer quite the reward."

He grimaced smugly as he pulled out an eyeball-like orb that glowed with a ominous red light, a devilish sort of thing indeed, "He's always tryin' to find old Sheikah junk to repurpose, right? Well, seein' as how this is a bomb, he had little use for it in our hideout."

"B-B-Bomb?!" Bolo quivered, frightened as he was, fighting the urge to scurry away.

Nazol nodded, "We'll still burn it down, make sure we've cleared it of any 'contraband'. Even if they did an exceptional job hiding her, the flames will make sure she's found."

Seriously, Mugull's face turned sour, "And if she's truly not in there?"

Nazol shrugged, "What's a few more people dead? No doubt Ganon would enjoy some newly-deads to string 'round his fingers. Why? You gettin' cold feet?"

"I'm just recalling our Young Master's instruction, sir. No unnecessary deaths, correct? These lands are prime for recruitment without out alienating them all," Mugull explained.

"The rainy season is upon us," Nazol merely replied with an innocuous sneer, "Who are we to judge should the goddess choose to tear down a home by lightning strike?"

Mugull shifted his eyes away, partially unsatisfied with his leader's assessment, though knew he had little room to object. He stared sidelong as Nazol began tinkering with the tiny ball of Sheikah technology, seemingly priming it for its only duty.

"How often they forget," Nazol mused to himself, almost has if possessed, "All these weapons just to sit around for millennia, waiting for one being? No; no, our ancestors had big plans for things like you."

Having primed the miniature explosive device, Nazol spun his thumb around its spherical surface, almost as if caressing the thing, his eyes dimming in time with his widening, cackling smirk. He jumped to his feet, making sure to remain out of sight from any of the windows.

"Bolo, fire!"

The mass of skin made his way up to his feet, pulling out a piece of flint from his pocket as Mugull readied the torches in his hands, already having collected kindling at their tops. As though pain were a foreign concept, Bolo sprayed sparked up and down his arm as he tried to light the kindling, giggling to himself as the bright drops of flame entranced his eyes. Mugull's eyes gave one final glare up toward his leader before focusing on the now-lit torches.

"One wall'll have to just sit," Mugull explained, slowly, "We're down to three of these."

"They'll engulf the entire thing soon enough," Nazol grinned, turning back toward the house as he began to step back, readying his arm, "Ready yourselves, boys."

His two cronies obeyed, scurrying away from the home as Nazol winded up, swinging his entire weight into his throw, sending the small rock-like bomb in through the window with a CRASH, the ball landing and rolling along the wooden floor with the course grinding of its momentum. Rurram's head quickly spun around, trying to find the source of the loud noise, his body already tensed up from earlier. His breaths hastened as he nearly panicked, attributing the sound to any number of vile actions on the part of the scary men who'd just left, but just then, Erol dashed into the kitchen, looking around cautiously.

"What was that?!" he asked, turning to his brother, whose eyes quickly began filling up with tears.

Rurram managed, "I-I don't know!"

Now Darim and Arie joined the oldest son at the doorway, both noticing right away the gap in the pane of glass, Darim quick to shout violently, "OUT!"

In the very next moment, a sudden, vicious blast of air caught Erol's face, forcing his eyes closed as he felt his body falling backward, pushing his mind into an unbalanced delirium. Just as quickly, a searing blast of heat surged along his body, so hot that he was certain he could feel his skin begin to tear. Pain shot through his back as he flew into the wall, following its heavy sheet as the blast tore the wood into pieces, forcing Erol through most of the house, sending him rolling into the living room.

As the roar of explosion came to a close, Erol released a loud, pained groan as he turned over onto his side, clutching at his back as tears flooded his eyes, irritated by the sudden burst of explosive power. He could feel his bones out of place, more than likely as shattered as the wall he felt himself laying upon.

"ERRRGH!" he shouted through a tear-stained roar, the pain tearing through him like knives digging straight into his nerves.

He managed to pull his arm up, slowly wiping away his tears so that he could see, just able to make out the now-darkened walls of the house, though splintered and nearly torn from the very foundation. His first thought was of Rurram, and as he slowly attempted to crawl back toward the kitchen, more tears accompanied his whimpers as pain dug deep into his back. So massive were his collection of tears that he failed to notice the dead body of his mother laying just an arms-length away from him.

As fierce as his pain was, soon enough, his nerves numbed to the feeling, and Erol managed to hasten his pace, though still only able to haltingly make his way into the kitchen. Collected in the opposite corner, Erol just managed to find his brother, Rurram's body just moving with breaths, his legs caught up against the wall, pinned there as his torso remained at the ground. Erol's tears streamed along his face as he fought his body's numbing to a stop, refusing to give in as a loud shout left him.

"R-Rurram!" he cried out through shaking breath.

Only a whimper answered, "B-Brother..?"

Erol battled his failing limbs, finally reaching Rurram's fading body, crawling up to him so that their eyes met atop of one another, his younger brother's face still red from his earlier tears, though devoid of them now as though he'd expelled them all. Erol couldn't resist unintentionally offering his own tears to his brother, his tears dropping onto his brother's face as he wrapped an arm around his younger brother's chin, trying his best to pull him into a hug alongside his own head.

"Rurram-" Erol quaveringly muttered, halting his speech, "Rurram, are- do you hurt?"

His brother didn't reply, though his own body trembled as life began to leave him. Rurram's eyes narrowed slightly, rolling backward as he tried to catch sight of his brother.

"Brother…" he mouthed, his voice now little more than a hollowed whisper, "Are you okay?"

Erol felt the resistance in Rurram's neck dissipate as his final breaths left his body, the two brothers parting for the first time in their lives. Erol felt the burning of his tears increase as shook with fear, burying his face in his brother's hair as he relieved himself of his sadness, though only finding that it was now only endless.

Slowly, a crackling grew in his ears, his head slowly raising up to look at the top of the wall through whetted eyes, still able to make out the unmistakable flickering of flames entering the house. His eyes shot open in horror, his body instinctively jolting away in recoil though he was stopped by his arm, still wrapped tenderly around his brother's head. His breaths began to waver as he thought of saying goodbye to his brother for the final time, though he willed his arm along, slowly, dipping his head low in one final show of respect before he mounted the still-difficult task of maneuvering in this state.

He turned his body, making his way from the kitchen, growling with each arm moving up to pull himself along. He felt the heat at his back growing and growing as the flames took more and more of the building, the orange licks burning the air as they lapped down toward Erol, the teenager's skin beginning to drip with sweat, his elbows quickly finding themselves able to grip at the floor as easily. He dropped his head down, gritting his teeth as he shoved his elbows into the uneven wood of the floor, digging his skin into the cragged surface in an effort to escape this burning home, his arms soon shaking from exhaustion.

As he passed his mother, his eyes shut tightly, unable to bear the weight of such a sight. He pressed on toward the door, his eye tightening so hard that he felt his eyes being pulled back into his head, so he acquiesced, opening his eyes to find the door just before him. Just as he began to reach for the handle, he remembered his father, his head gingerly turning over his shoulders to find the roof nearly encased in flame, with the walls not far behind. Surely his father was somewhere, still alive. Nothing could keep that man from clawing at life itself, Erol knew.

Slowly, Erol spun himself back around, forcing his way along the floor once again, knowing his father must be in need of help. Even more than that was the fear of living life beyond this point, alone, with nobody at his side. He kept low as smoke bellowed throughout the house, his heart and body both steeling as his nerves hardened, his tears now gone, only leaving his raw skin at his face to feel the heat of the flames so much more vividly.

Suddenly, he found his father, huddled against an interior wall, his torso pierced through with a stake of wood that had him stuck to the wall, his head hung low though his breaths still remained. The stake had severed something within him, leaving his arms numb and useless, leaving his body to be utterly useless as he sat there, shaking, both from blood loss as well as his life having collapsed all around him.

His breaths turned into gasps as his head weakly rose, his lungs working overtime as he noticed his son crawling toward him, "E-E-"

Erol made it to his side, stopping to catch his breath as best he could while clutching his father's leg to comfort himself with his father's presence. Darim did what he could to steady his breaths, trying his best to work his body up to speaking clearly.

"G-Get out, E-Erol," he struggled to muster, "Why-"

Erol interrupted him, knowing the rest of the question, his voice as weak as it could have been, just breaking through the drowning roaring of flames, "I'm a man now, aren't I? I need to risk my entire body to know the people I love are okay."

He couldn't hear a reply, though once it finally arose from above him, his father's heated voice answered, "I thought you how to be a man, not how to be a fool."

Erol turned his head up, noticing the faintest hint of a grin at his father's lips, the old man turning his head toward the bedroom, "As long as you're being stupid… Make yourself useful and get her out of there… Will you?"

"But, dad, what about-?"

Darim shook his head weakly, "As soon as I make a wrong move like this… I'm dead. Best use the rest of my life instructing you to save someone worth rescuing."

His voice rolled deeply as he grumbled, painfully, leaning his head forward in a vain attempt at seeking relief, though ultimately knowing it was futile, his voice returning to Erol as his father spoke lowly, "I'm sorry I wasn't a better father to you."

"Father, I-"

Erol's reply went unheeded as he father merely continued, "But you turned out to have quite a head on your shoulders… You turned out to be far better of a son than I ever deserved to have, both you and Rurram. I just hate that I didn't appreciate it as much as I should have…"

Feeling another collection of tears welling up, Erol lowered his head, his body shaking through exhaustion, Darim's concluding, "Go on. If Cephia makes you happy, I have no doubt you'll be a better man than me. A better husband. A better father…"

Erol's mind lost itself in this man he'd never known. This man who bore a striking resemblance to his father though spoke with words Erol hadn't ever heard before, or even imagined his father saying. His vision shook as his hand clenched tighter at his father's leg, a growing determination welling up within him to see this man live- to know the only father he'd ever have.

He pulled himself up off the ground as best he could, reaching his upper body over to find where his father was pinned, struggling to find where his impalement ended in an attempt at freeing him from this place. His father's dim eyes managed to turn up toward him, almost curiously, though they lost even that light once he realized his son's intent.

"Erol," Darim whispered, "Go on; that's an order. Get the princess and-"

Erol fought desperately, not only to keep himself propped up, but also to remain in this house where the cracking of wood had grown so loud, he was certain the roof was to collapse any minute. His face twisted painfully, gritting his teeth as he pleaded to his father.

"I can't leave you!" he shouted with a convulsing voice, "Not now when I've just-!"

His father thrust his body away from him, a sickening sound shooting through the air as Darim's body suddenly fell limp, his head falling lifelessly in front of him. Erol's eyes went wide at the sight, though in his exhaustion, he simply fell back onto the ground, the weight of his body meeting the floor with a thump as he lay there, still. Much like his brother, he hadn't any tears to shed, if only due to the searing flames offering enough heat to soak them up in an instant.

Tired, he remained there, his hand resting atop his father's leg. A man of action, rather than words, right up unto this last moment.


	9. Never An Option

Nazol hunched over as he gripped his hand tightly, his teeth gritting painfully as his fingers flexed outward, skeltily, suddenly stomping onto the ground as his searing at his palm nearly burned to the core. Bolo worriedly hovered behind him, trying to get a glance at the damage, though every caring grab of Nazol's shoulder to spin him around was met with a forceful tug away by his superior, who continued to curse beneath his breath.

"Fuck off!" he finally shouted at Bolo, stomping off, "We've been here far too long anyway! Mugull! Get over here!"

Mugull was still walking along the perimeter of the house, methodically setting its wood alight, when his head turned toward his leader, "There's still another wall to-"

"I don't give two shits right now! This bloody oaf-!" Nazol shouted with an anger forged from deep within his heart before violently kicking Bolo in the knee, knocking the brute to the ground, "God knows the longer we keep at this, the more this useless fiend will have me burned!"

"Ayeeee!" Bolo cried, clutching his knee, "Was an acc'dent, sir! Swear it!"

Nazol scoffed as he turned back around toward the nearby lake, dunking his hand into its still waters as Mugull finished up, frowning worriedly that the task hadn't been completed fully. Despite only torching three walls, the entire building seemed as though it were a fireplace, and as Mugull crouched down to gather his things, he felt the magnificent heat nearly scorching him as well, even with the distance he'd put between himself and the small home. He quickly took to his feet as Nazol screamed toward him in continuation.

"Look at that place; who cares what's left!" Nazol sneered, "Nothing's alive in there! Did'ja see that blast?!"

He grabbed Bolo and dragged him up the hill behind him, "I should've thrown you in there as well!"

Bolo wailed under his breath as Mugull sped along to catch up, knowing the bellowing smoke would soon enough lead to unwanted attention on the three of them, though a quick glance skyward took his mind off his worry. Storm clouds had overtaken the blue sky, leaving both him and Nazol to at least assume it would be raining soon enough.

"Blasted little…" Nazol cursed, yanking his hand away from his cohort long enough to stroke his chin, "Think it'll all burn down?"

Mugull shrugged, "Your stone did most of your work for you[CC1] . Even if it doesn't, I can't imagine there being anythin' in there left."

The odds weren't favorable enough for either of the two smart men of the pack, and as Nazol stared back at the burning frame, Mugull knew what was crossing his mind. He knew his leader couldn't leave any doubt of the princess surviving, and indeed, were it in the Yiga's best interest, she'd be disintegrated, evaporated, or simply burned to the point where only her ashes remained coursing through the winds of Hyrule. Less evidence, the better.

"Bolo!" Nazol snapped, pushing his brute's body forward by his shoulder, "Run in there and make sure they're all dead!"

"Rhur?!" Bolo retorted in mastadonic confusion.

Nazol immediately shot back, "You heard me! Get in there!"

"B-But fire burns!"

Nazol whipped his arm back and smacked Bolo across the face with his crisped hand, bringing it back around and shoving it toward his face, "I'M AWARE OF THAT!"

He kicked Bolo in his backside, sending him falling forward into the ground as Nazol growled, "Get in there to make sure and maybe I'll consider getting you entry into the Night of the Feastly Lock-In."

His stomach now becoming more persuasive than whatever of a mind he had, Bolo's eyes glazed over with visions of grilled boar, his innards nearly quivering with hunger. Turning back toward the inferno, however, his legs took their turn to shake fearfully, not at all to the amusement of Nazol, who began to yell once again.

"GET YOUT ASS IN THERE AND CHECK IT FOR-!"

In the most speediest of moments, Nazol's vision went blurred as a massive force slammed into the back of his head, the same force following him down until he hit the earth below, meeting again with the sane THUD at the back of his skull. Mugull's eyes blew wide open at the sight, unable to stop the unknown man that hand scurried down the hill, pouncing directly at the back of Nazol with his knee leading the charge.

The man stood up, making sure to steady himself atop Nazol's head, burying it further into the wet soil beneath him, making fierce eyes toward Mugull while reaching for the sword that rest over his shoulder. Mugull was just as quick to whip out his own sword, sneering evilly at the man, hoping to, both, intimidate him and distract him, if only due to Bolo's ability to approach him from behind.

"You'll pay for that, kid!" Mugull spoke aloud, noticing how young the man was.

The man grasped at his cloak and yanked it off from him, revealing the royally embellished blue shirt of Hyrule's Champions. Mugull cocked a grin at the sight, falling out from his aggressive stance and shaking his head in sarcastic disbelief.

Link muttered aloud, "I don't think I will."

Mugull smirked wider, "No, you most certainly will. I'm just running it through my mind, how regally my return will be when I'm carrying the head of a Champion in with me. Luckily, you're one of 'em whose necks actually tear off."

Link threw his hand over his shoulder, taking hold of his sword as he stared the Yiga bandit down, his face wearing emotionlessly, just as he'd been taught as a child by his parents. Show nothing, and your enemy will take noth-

"She's in there, huh?" Mugull muttered evilly, his low voice rising into a devilish cackle, "Y-You came back here, for HER, that right?!"

Despite his stony face, Link could feel his heartbeat begin to rumble in his chest, beating harder and harder as his mind inevitably run along this evil man's words. As Mugull swayed back and forth, sauntering about as he lost himself in laughter, Link shook in surprise, quickly turning his head down to the hand of Nazol, which had reached up to take a sharp hold of Link's ankle. He quickly yanked himself away to free himself, but Nazol's grip was true enough to keep his there.

In a second, Bolo charged forward, crashing into Link with his mighty frame, sending the Hylian soldier flying into the hillside, gripping his shoulder where he'd smashed into the ground. He quickly turned up toward Mugull, who'd whipped out a bow and arrow, pointing the sharpest of edges toward him, sneering with one eye closed, prepared to finish the Hylian off.

"Pity," was all he murmured.

He launched the arrow straight at Link's face, the speedy tip whistling through the air as it burst forth faster than anybody's eyes could move, Link's eyes tensing with fierce resolve as he watched it come closer and close-

It stopped.

Mugull growled, taking a step back as the arrow stopped still in the air, simply suspended there on absolutely nothing. He snorted in acknowledgement as Link shifted to the side, his hand having shoved itself into his pocket, now pulling out an ornate block of bronze metal, the likes of which Mugull had only seen in storybooks as a child.

"A gift," Link began, not breaking eye contact for a single moment, "From the princess herself."

Suddenly, his thumb slid forcibly across the plated object, launching the arrow straight down a foreign direction, almost shooting a sonic boom through the air as it split between the atmosphere, a blood-curdling splitting sound suddenly popping into existence before Mugull's head could even turn to follow the object. By the time he had followed the arrow, Bolo's head was already split down the middle, his body collapsing lifelessly as Mugull gritted his teeth with a snarl.

"Yooou…"

He hastily whipped out his sword, rushing up to Link with a vigorous yell while the soldier took to his own feet yanking his own sword out from its sheath, the two blades meeting with sparks as the two held up, pushing each other's weapon forward with heavy growls from both of them. Link felt the heat of the house sweltering his skin, knowing he had little time.

Mugull sneered a hellish smirk, his crooked teeth peeking out from behind his lips, "Look at that face, Champion. You're not a man."

He laughed as he threw his body into Link, knocking him back a step as he continued to heckle the soldier, "You're nothing more than a sword- no better than that bomb that killed everybody in there, even your princess!"

Link felt his own lips begin to curl angrily as he forced himself back against Mugull, shoving him back as steam escaped his nose in furious snorts.

"You failed, boy; your princess is dead," Mugull goaded, connivingly, "And what do you do with a sword that's worth nothing? Stick it in the forge, melt it down…"

Two powerful hands grasped Link's shoulders from behind, Nazol having wearily recovered. He yanked him backward, wrapping his arms around Link's in an effort to subdue him, a position Mugull was more than happy to oblige by readying his sword to kill this Champion. Link squirmed, desperate to escape Nazol's grasp, but with a foggy haze still encompassing him, Nazol simply allowed his body to lock up without further instruction.

Mugull approached the two, raising his sword up to swing it along Link's torso, the soldier eyeing his assailant carefully, and as Mugull brought his sword down, Link's heel dug into the ground, sending him spinning toward the ground as Nazol took the place above him, a blood-curdling gasp passing by Link's ear as Mugull's sword swung through his superior's back. Link felt his arms free from resistance, and he quickly scurried up to his feet, spinning around to find Mugull shaking frightfully above his master, shocked at what he'd just done.

"You…" his voice wavered, "Y-… You…!"

He snapped a curse toward Link as he leapt toward him, a blistering yell breaking the air as Link rolled out of his way, collecting his sword and cautiously stepping back as Mugull continued his insane flurry of swipes. Finally, his fury clouding any sense of form, Mugull threw his sword across his body, leaving it up in the air with nary a bit of momentum to return it in defense. Link quickly dashed into him, shoving his sword through the Yiga's body as Mugull stood there, his eyes quivering, dropping his sword into the dirt below.

Link lowered his sword, allowing the man to slide of its end, leaving a pale red trail of blood along his blade. His body rose and fell as he breathed heavily, just now taking a moment to recover from the assault, unable to notice the trails of blood that ran along various parts of his own body. He immediately dropped his own sword, eyeing the enflamed house, and stomped over toward it, hurriedly searching for a way in.

A mighty creeeee-SNAP escaped the inferno as one of its wooden support columns broke in half, sending a corner of the house right into its own footprint as it collapsed, leaving Link with an even quicker heart rate as he rushed to the front door. His breaths caught nothing as they sped up, his mind racing at how insane of an idea was forming in his head.

Without much more thought, he dashed, tearing down the front door as he slammed through it, shoulder first, covering his head as bellowing smoke and inflaming heat assaulted him. He crouched down, covering his face with the crook of his elbow as he coughed, hurriedly making his way in through the house, his eyes catching the silhouette of a body nearby, an adult, already charred to a crisp. His body shook, though he'd seen far worse in his day, which only helped further as he continued deeper into the house, finding another adult pinned against a wall, though his body wasn't as bad.

Link recognized him as the old man, though he knew he hadn't time for much else beyond pressing forth. He turned the corner into the hallway, his eyes tearing up as smoke surrounded him, though through the light tremor of water, he noticed a body in the next room, crouching low atop the floor, their shoulders just barely moving with breaths. Link quickly moved to investigate, coming up from behind the form, only to discover the boy from the other night, helplessly pulling a hand up that he'd shoved in between two slats of wood.

Erol's body was little more than a dark visage of soot and ash, his eyes just barely remaining open as he mustered whatever little strength he had left. His entire body tiredly fell backward, trying to pull the trap door up, to no avail.

Link carefully pulled his hand away, Erol's eyes gently rising up to see this newcomer, and yanked at the floor, ripping open the crawlspace to find the Princess, laying there unblemished, in a comfortable nook in the ground. Link turned to Erol, who merely leaned back and forth, trying to stay upright with whatever energy he had left.

"I'll get her out!" Link shouted, "Then I'll come get you, alright?!"

Erol's throat had so burned by now that any reply would have scorched him further. He could only remain there, closing his eyes slowly, in show of agreement. Link dipped his body into the crawlspace, wrapping his arms around Zelda's body, and pulling her out, making sure to leave Erol with a few more words before leaving.

"Give me one second!" he shouted, the roaring of the flames encapsulating them like dragon's breath.

Erol only remained there, unable to even move his arms, as Link quickly made his way out of the room. His blackened face managed to raise itself just enough to eye the bed he'd been examining since he crawled in here, his mind still addled by the sight before him. Much like the Princess' unblemishment, the bed itself remained wholly undamaged by the flames, as well as the wall behind it that hadn't been set fire to by the Yiga men. There, just above the bed, Erol's eyes met with the sky sitting just beyond the window, his blue eyes shimmering in whatever sunlight made its way through to him like two jewels sat so deeply in the dirt and ash covering his face.

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Link held Zelda close to his body as he jumped out through what remained of the front door, quickly sprinting away from the house before gently laying her there atop the grass, almost mesmerized by her face remaining untouched by anything she'd just been carried through. He quickly rose to his feet just as a sickly groaning came from the house's joints, Link making a mad dash back toward the building before sliding to a halt, his eyes growing wide as the roof immediately collapsed in on itself, the crashing of weakened slabs of wood bursting past him as a new collection of flames roared into the air as if stoked by the collapse.

He couldn't move, his arms merely falling to his side as his body shook between deep breaths and shock. Slowly enough, his head sank forward, an overwhelming feeling of anguish coming over him before an anger suddenly shot through him. He fell forward, taking his fist and punching it into the ground, simply staying that way as he fought back tears, knowing how disappointed such a thing would have made his parents were they still alive. His fist opened and closed again, grasping at the dirt beneath him as if to punish it for his shortcomings, enough to where his arm began to shake with strain.

Suddenly, a drop of water hit his head, bringing him back from that place as he gradually allowed his eyes to raise up, noticing the storm clouds that had just rolled in. As soon as it had begun to release mere droplets, a heavy shower arrived, covering Link's entire body as his downturned brow watched the charred pile of wood in front of him suddenly burst out with plumes of smoke as the fires choked out from the rain.

He stood up, remembering his true assignment, his sworn duty, turning back toward Zelda with his shoulders sunk down in shame, not wanting to give that pile behind him another glance as he reached down to pick up the Princess, covering her face as best he could with his own self, leaning himself forward to shield her from the rain that scored loudly against the ground, nearly as deafening as the roaring of flames.

"What good is a sword," he muttered to himself, quietly, thinking back again to his mother, of whom he'd spent many nights arguing the same sentiments with her.

"It's easy to simply follow orders" he had said, before his mother slapped him across the face.

Her eyes that night were so full of some righteous anger as she shouted back toward her rebellious child, "The burden of another being is the most difficult thing to bear."

Link looked down at Zelda's still-sleeping face, knowing he needed to get the two of them out of the elements to administer her medicine, though he couldn't help but lose himself in is mother's declaration. Looking that boy, Erol, in the eye, just before he met his death… His mother had done much the same before his father's demise.

He began to realize, then, just how-

"Link?"

His eyes blinked as Zelda's own pair lazily opened into slits, her voice very distant as she called out to him, "Where-"

"Shh," he replied, "You're weak. I got medicine."

"Oh," Zelda's voice returned, as trembling as it had been a moment earlier.

And she went quiet, simply eyeing the trail before them as Link continued along. He had looked into Zelda's eyes, countless times, during their short travels together. Running the risk of one of those occasions becoming the final time, he kept his mouth shut. He kept his face still, just as his parents had done.

He didn't want to fail, as he'd just done with that boy. He couldn't bear to lose somebody who'd grown far closer than necessary. For after watching his mother's death, his life had never been the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for my horrible prose- I think I do far, far better when dialogue is involved, but obviously, there wasn't much of that in this chapter. There will be a short epilogue, though, and I do apologize if the ending ideas weren't fleshed out well. I do plan on writing more in this universe, with far more of a focus on Link and Zelda, in the future, so I'll definitely expound of some things.
> 
> One of my biggest criticisms of BotW was just how shallow everything was, especially the characters, so I'd very much like to continue this and build some of BotW's characters up into more in-depth people. This seriously challenged my playing the game when it came to Link himself, so I'm definitely interested in giving him some backstory (as seen here) as well as some reason as to why he can stumble upon his 'girlfriend' after a hundred years, dead, and he shows zero emotion about it.
> 
> I put 80+ hours into the game, though, so it's impossible for me to say it's "bad"- I just wish it could have curbed the "massive, open worlds are shallow worlds" thing that Fallout and most other open-world games have, but that's what fan-fiction is for, right? ;D


	10. Epilogue: The Banks of Bloodleaf

Link stared down toward the Sheikah Slate in his hand, zooming in and out of his map, trying to ascertain how far he'd gotten. He'd walked for quite some miles to get here, feeling his legs gradually cramp up from so much time of disuse. He'd traveled great distances his entire life, though being forced to reacquaint himself with a body that had no only been left inches to death, but one that had spent the last hundred years in, essentially, a vat of liquid. He reached down to massage his legs as he walked, his eyes unmoving from the small screen in his hands, finally figuring out where in Akkala he was.

He was hunting down the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab, on the orders of the old woman, Impa, he'd met back in Kakariko Village, who had also indulged him with rather incredible tales that he had apparently been a major player in, himself. Even now, having been instructed to make this trip on foot simply to offer himself time to reflect, his mind was awash with little to no recollection of anything beyond the last few days since awakening atop the Plateau. Link simply pressed on, figuring that, regardless of his current mental state, enough people had surmised that he was the right man for the job regardless- even the King of Hyrule himself, though he was but a ghost.

As he continued up the inclined hill that would ultimately lead him to the Tech Lab, he puffed breaths as his lungs churned heatedly, even his inner machinations needing the chance to warm up. His eyes looked up before him as he slid the Slate back into his pocket, scanning the immediate horizon as he admired the autumn foliage that waved in the breeze surrounding him. He couldn't help but enjoy the scenery, despite his unmoving face, his eyes merely jumping from one orange, brown tree to another as he continued treading carefully up the increasing height of Akkala.

Suddenly, as if it were a bout of déjà vu, Link paused, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the road at his feet, an unmistakable feeling of himself having been here before nagging at some far-off tendon within his mind. He slid his foot along the dust below, as though in examination, before looking up again, turning his head as he took in the landscape all around him, finally setting on a slope to his left, leading directly to a gentle cliffside. He slowly left the road, reaching back to grab ahold of the wooden club in his possession, knowing even know that off the road, nothing but trouble awaited.

Out in the distance, he saw Bloodleaf Lake, a name found on his Slate, his mind slowly connecting with something far off and distant, as though he were connecting two objects beneath a workbench without the benefit of sight. Curious, he carefully slid down the sloping cliffside, walking toward the lake with skeptical eyes, noticing something of constructed material a bit farther down its banks. There, having continued along, he came across the worn wall of a home, left standing and decaying for what seemed like decades, left here to rot away without the attention of anybody.

Link curiously walked around the remnants of a home, most of the window still intact, just hanging on to the rest of the structure. He did his best to will his mind to remember what could have been an important memory, but after so long, his mind was little more than what it had become the last few days.

Wrapping around the side of the wall, his shoulders slacked as he noticed the decayed state of a bad there, broken in two, fated to the centuries just as the wall had been. His mind flashed along pictures of a golden-haired woman, but that was all he got from this place. His body turned, though his head remained until it nearly met his shoulder, a pang in his heart forcing him to regret being unable to recall this place. He knew, even now, it was something that shouldn't have ever been lost to the winds of time.

"I'll just return later…" he muttered to himself, gently pulling up his Slate and marking where he stood, his eyes flickering up from the screen toward the lonely structure as he did so.

He shook his head listlessly, completing his turn before sauntering up the hill, his shoulders still having not recovered their previous, postured shape, leaving behind what was left of somebody's home he was sure he'd known to some extent.

There it would remain, forever. Nary a soul to recount what had happened there a hundred years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) I hope you enjoyed it.


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